^ 


T  V 1 1 


(      APR   7    1924 


THINGS  NEW  AND  OLD 


DISCOURSES 


Christian  Truth  and  Life. 


WASHINGTON    GLADDEN. 


COLUMBUS,    O., 

1883. 


THINGS   NEW   AND   OLD. 

Matthew    xiii:    52. 

"And  he  said  unto  them,  Therefore  every  scribe  who  hath  been  made 
a  disciple  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  like  unto  a  man  that  is 
a  householder,  which  hringeth  forth  out  of  his  treasure  things  new 
and  old." 

This  is  the  comment  with  which  our  Lord  closes 
that  wonderful  chapter  of  parables,  wherein  He  sets  forth 
the  nature  of  His  kingdom  under  a  variety  of  figures, 
opening  wide  glimpses  into  the  spiritual  realms,  and 
showing  the  relation  of  the  life  that  now  is  to  the  life 
that  is  to  come.  One  truth  underlies  all  these  repre- 
sentations—  the  truth,  namely,  that  past  and  present  and 
future  are  all  (Mie  day,  known  to  the  Lord  ;  that  as  the 
present  is  the  fruit  of  the  past  so  it  is  the  seed  of  the 
future ;  that  wliat  the  world  now  is  can  never  be  ex- 
plained but  by  the  reverent  study  of  the  providential 
causes  that  have  been  at  work  in  the  past ;  that  what 
the  world  is  to  be  in  the  future"  can  only  be  predicted 
by  a  reverent  study  of  the  results  now  reached  and  the 
causes  now  at  work  ;  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is 
an    organism    steadily   developing   under  the   divine   liand. 


6  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

the  nourishment  is  carried  up  to  the  top  of  the  tree. 
I  am  not  enough  of  a  physiologist  to  be  able  to  say 
whether  or  not  there  is  any  life  in  these  outer  layers ; 
but  it  is  agreed,  I  believe,  that  the  inner  part  of  the  tree 
has  ceased  to  live  ;  and  that  all  the  active  processes  of 
growth  take  place  in  that  one  cambium  layer  that  sep- 
arates the  bark  from  the  wood.  All  that  is  neio  in  the 
life  of  this  tree  is  found  in  this  thin  zone  outside  the 
woody   portion,   and    inside   its    covering. 

The  fact  on  which  I  wish  to  fix  your  attention  is 
that  the  new  and  the  old  are  both  essential  to  the  growth 
of  the  tree :  the  old  supports  and  protects  the  new ; 
the  new  augments  and  beautifies  the  old.  The  heart 
of  the  tree  is  not  alive,  —  it  is  composed  of  matter 
formed,  not  forming;  and  that  which  is  formed, — in 
which  no  processes  of  change   are  going  on,  is  not  alive. 

Nothing  is  alive  which  has  assumed  a  permanent  form, 
and  is  undergoing  no  structural  changes.  Life  and  change 
are  synonymous  terms.  The  heart  of  the  tree  is  not  alive  ; 
neither  is  the  outer  portion  of  the  bark;  but  these  old 
tissues — these  that  are  formed,  and  are  no  longer  alive  — 
have  much  to  do  with  the  life  of  the  tree.  The  strength 
of  the  heart  holds  up  the  trunk  with  its  crown  of 
branches  and  leaves,  resisting  the  onset  of  the  winds, 
and  giving  the  processes  of  life  going  on  in  the  newer 
portions  of  the  tree  a  chance  to  do  their  work.  The 
old  bark,  that  is  no_  longer  alive,  serves  as  a  })rotection 
for  the  cambium  layer,  in  which  the  life-btiilders  are 
driving  their  marvellous  mechanism.  Of  course  the  life 
and  growth  of  the  tree  depend  on  the  work  of  these 
life-builders;     but   their   work   could    not  be    done   were   it 


THIXGS    NEW    AND    OLD.  7 

not  for  the  protection  and  support  afforded  them  by  those 
portions  of  the  tree  that  are  no  longer  alive.  The  new  and 
the  old  are  both  essential  to  the  processes  of  vegetable 
growth. 

The  same  thing  is  true  of  growth  in  the  animal 
kingdom.  I  cannot  undertake  to  make  plain  to  you  in 
five  minutes  all  that  the  microsco|)e  has  revealed  con- 
cerning the  processes  of  life  in  the  human  body  and 
in  other  sentient  creatures ;  it  is  enough  to  say  that 
all  animal  organisms  are  composed  of  minute  cells,  not 
one  five-hundredth  of  an  inch  in  diameter ;  that  the 
work  of  transforming  food  and  other  nutriment  into 
living  substance  goes  on  within  these  cells ;  that  the  outer- 
most portion  of  these  cells,  within  which  the  work  is 
done,  consists  of  matter  which  is  not  truly  alive,  old 
material,  that  now  serves  only  as  the  bark  of  the  tree 
serves,  for  an  enclosure  or  work-shop  for  the  little  builders 
whose  work  goes  on  within.  Through  the  walls  of  these 
little  workshops  the  nutrient  matter  passes  to  the  bio- 
plasts that  are  l^usy  inside,  working  it  up,  first  into 
living  matter,  and  then  chtftiging  it  into  formed  matter 
and  adding  it  to  the  walls  of  the  cells,  which  thus 
become  thicker  and  thicker  until  no  more  nourishment 
can  pass  through  them.  This  matter  which  was  once 
alive,  but  has  ceased  to  live,  is  gradually  removed  by 
the  excretory  organs.  Mr.  Huxley  describes  this  process 
in  general  terms  when  he  tells  us  in  the  Encyclopedia 
Britannica  (Article  "Biology")  that  "a  process  of  waste, 
resulting  from  the  decomposition  of  the  molecules  of 
the  protoplasm,  in  viitue  of  which  they  break  up  into 
more  highly  oxidated   products  which   cease    to    form  any 


8  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

part  of  the  living  body,  is  a  constant  concomitant  of 
life."  And  in  the  same  Encyclopedia,  Professor  Schaefer 
tells  us  (Article  "Histology")  that  even  in  the  lowest 
organisms,  those  composed  of  a  single  cell,  this  work  of 
changing  the  living  into  the  not  living  takes  place, — 
a  shell  or  test  being  produced  "  which  subserves  purely 
passive   functions    of   sustentation    or   defence." 

Animal  growth  is  thus  seen  to  be  akin  to  vegetable 
growth.  You  see  in  the  shell  of  an  oyster  precisely 
what  you  see  in  the  bark  of  a  tree ;  the  outside  of 
this  shell  is  evidently  no  longer  alive ;  the  shell  is 
growing,  but  its  growth  takes  places  within ;  part  of  it 
is  forming ;  that  part  is  alive ;  part  of  it  is  formed ;  it 
is  undergoing  no  further  structural  changes ;  that  part 
is  not  living.  And  although  it  is  not  possible  for  us 
to  detect  with  the  unaided  senses  those  portions  of  our 
own  bodies  which  are  not  living,  we  must  bear  in  mind 
that  our  bodies  are  composed  of  myriads  of  minute 
cells,  woven  together  into  tissues ;  that  these  cells  grow 
as  the  oyster  grows ;  that  the  outsides  of  them  are  not 
really  alive.  And  the  statement  is  made  by  microscop- 
ists,  that  this  formed  matter,  no  longer  living,  makes  up 
about  four-fifths  of  our  bodies.  The  fibrine,  albumen, 
fatty  matter,  and  salts  of  which  our  bodies  mainly  con- 
sist are  substances  that  are  not  alive.  The  life  all  resides 
in  these  little  nucleated  specks  of  germinal  protoplasm, 
within  the  cells.  These  minute  particles  of  life  are 
distributed  through  every  part  of  the  body,  so  that  you 
could  not  find  a  space  one  five-hundredth  of  an  inch 
in  diameter  without  one  or  more  of  them ;  nevertheless 
they    make   only    about   one-fifth    of   the   body. 


THTXGS    NEW    AND    OLD.  .V 

It  seems,  then,  that  the  exivStence  of  tlie  human 
body  depends  on  the  old  as  well  as  the  new.  Much 
the  largest  part  of  the  body  is  made  up  of  that  which 
decayeth  and  waxeth  old  and  is  ready  to  vanish  away. 
Yet  this  old  matter  is  necessary  as  the  receptacle  and 
matrix  of  the  new  life ;  it  is  this  that  gives  strength 
and  bulk  and  substance  and  solidity  to  our  bodies.  If 
everything  were  removed  at  once  but  that  which  was  new 
and  alive,  not  much  would  be  left  of  us, —  nothing,  in- 
deed, by  which  we  could  put  ourselves  into  any  relations 
with    the   world    about   us. 

I  have  given  you  in  these  few  words  a  hasty  and 
inadequate  account  of  the  discoveries  of  modern  biology  ; 
but  enough  has  l)een  said  to  afford  another  illustration 
of  the  truth,  that  in  the  natural  as  well  as  in  the  spir- 
itual world,  that  which  is  old  and  that  which  is  new 
are  joined  inseparably  in  the  same  organism  ;  that  in 
the  process  of  making  all  things  new,  much  that  is  not 
new  must  all  the  while  be  present;  and  that  the  old 
has    its    function    not    less    than    the   new. 

One  other  illustration  that  is  worth  careful  study  I 
can  only  touch.  In  the  progress  of  society  things  new 
and  old  must  be  combined  in  the  same  way.  Society 
is  an  organism,  and  the  laws  of  its  growth  are  closely 
analogous   to   those  of    other  organisms. 

Before  there  can  be  an}'  progress,  there  must  be 
some  degree  of  permanence  in  the  social  order.  Peo- 
ple must  stop  roving  and  begin  to  live  somewhere,  and 
their  life  must  begin  to  find  expression  in  certain  fixed 
customs  that  have  the  force  of  laws.  So  Mr.  Bagehot 
in  his  essav  on  "  Phvsics  and  Politics,'"  has  vividlv  shown 


^0  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

US.  "  In  early  times,"  he  says,  "  the  quantit}-  of  gov- 
ernment is  much  more  important  than  its  quality.  What 
you  want  is  a  comprehensive  rule  binding  men  together, 
making  them  do  much  the  same  things,  telling  them 
what  to  expect  of  each  other  —  fashioning  them  alike 
and  keeping  them  so.  *  *  *  The  object  of  such 
organization  is  to  create  what  may  be  called  a  cake  of 
custom.  All  the  actions  of  like  are  to  be  submitted 
to  a  single  rule  for  a  single  object ;  that  gradually  cre- 
ates the  hereditary  drill  which  science  teaches  to  be 
essential,  and  which  the  early  instinct  of  men  saw  to 
be  essential  too."  It  is  in  and  upon  this  social  order, 
thus  imposed  and  maintained,  that  the  principles  of 
progress,  the  love  of  liberty  and  "the  tendency  in  every 
man  to  ameliorate  his  condition "  begin  to  operate ;  out 
of  the  shell  of  custom  thus  formed  the  bird  of  free- 
dom finally  breaks  its  way.  Custom  and  law  represent 
that  which  is  fixed  and  unchangeable ;  they  are  the 
"formed  matter"  of  civilization,  just  as  the  wall  of  the 
cell  is  the  formed  matter  of  the  physiological  builders ; 
and  they  are  as  necessary  to  progress  as  the  walls  of 
the  cells  are  to  animal  growth.  They  seem  to  be  the 
very  antithesis  of  progress,  but  they  are  not ;  they  are 
the  condition  of  progress.  What  is  progress?  It  is  the 
reshaping  and  improvement  of  old  customs.  But  you 
must  have  customs  before  you  can  reshape  them.  You 
must  be  holding  on  to  something  or  you  cannot  reach 
forth  to  the  things  that  are  before.  The  condition  of 
walking  is  that  one  foot  be  planted  solidly  on  the  ground. 
I  have  thus  endeavored  to  bring  before  your  thought 
the  relation  of  the  new  to  the  old  in  all  kinds  of  growth. 


THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD.  11 

Both  elements  are  indispensable ;  the  new  life  cannot 
perform  its  functions  without  the  presence  and  aid  of 
that  which  has  lived,  but  is  alive  no  longer.  The  old 
furnishes  the  mold  in  which  the  new  is  fashioned,  the 
support  on  which  the  new  rests  while  it  is  coming  into 
being. 

Let  me  apply  this  law  very  briefly  to  the  spiritual 
life,  first  on  its  intellectual  side,  and  then  on  the  side 
of    conduct. 

The  old  and  the  new  must  be  continually  held  to- 
gether in  the  forming  of  our  creeds  and  theories  of 
religious  truth.  To  say  that  our  religious  theories  must 
be  always  reshaping  themselves,  that  the  growth  of 
knowledge  must  result  in  frequent  modifications  of  our 
theological  statements,  is  to  utter  a  commonplace.  The 
history  of  theology  shows  how  continuous  these  changes 
have  been :  the  least  knowledge  of  human  nature  con- 
vinces us  that  such  changes  must  be.  A  creed  that  is 
not  growing  steadily  is  a  dead  creed,  and  ought  to  be 
buried.  That  every  scribe  who  has  become  a  disciple 
of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  will  bring  forth  from  his  treas- 
ure new  things,  is  evident  enough.  But  it  is  not  always 
so  evident  as  it  ought  to  be  in  these  days  that  the 
old  as  well  as  the  new  is  part  of  his  treasure ;  that 
the  new  can  onl}-  exist  and  develope  in  close  relation 
to  the  old.  A  theology  that  has  no  old  truth  in  it  is 
a  theology  that  has  in  it  no  truth  at  all.  Do  you  sup- 
pose that  you  could  get  up  a  brand-new  system  of  doc- 
trine? You  might  just  as  well  undertake  to  produce  a 
brand-new  elm  tree,  three  feet  through,  that  should  not 
have   a   single   layer   of   old   tissue   in    its   trunk.     A  sys- 


12  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

tern  of  doctrine  has  got  to  grow,  just  as  a  tree  grows; 
and  one  of  the  consequences  of  such  growth  will  be 
that  certain  parts  of  it  will  have  lost  much  of  their 
vitality.  This  is  not  the  ideal  of  progress ;  but  this 
is  the  historical  fact,  the  scientific  fact.  And  even  if 
some  portions  of  your  theology  have  ceased  to  be  vital, 
it  is  not  best  to  be  in  too  much  haste  about  removing 
them.  In  due  time  they  will  fall  off,  if  left  to  the 
operation  of  spiritual  laws ;  undue  eagerness  to  strip 
them  off  ma}^  destroy  the  life  that  they  now  support 
and  protect.  Here  is  the  elm  tree  with  many  a  shaggy 
layer  of  dead  bark  outside  and  many  a  solid  layer  of 
heart  wood  inside.  "  Dead  wood  !  "  cries  the  radical ;  ''  let 
us  remove  it  and  destroy  it ! "  So  he  tears  off  every 
particle  of  the  bark,  down  to  the  very  (juick  of  the 
cambium  layer,  and  he  bores  and  burns  all  the  heart 
wood  out  of  the  tree,  and  leaves  nothing  but  the  thiu 
outer  layers  of  sap-wood.  "  This  is  the  only  part  of 
the  tree  that  is  really  alive,"  he  says;  "this  is  all  we 
want  to  save ;  the  rest  is  a  detriment  and  a  disgrace ! " 
But  if  the  frosts  of  the  first  spring  do  not  chill  and 
paralyze  the  life  in  the  tree,  thus  stripped  of  its  natu- 
ral covering,  the  March  winds  will  surely  topple  it  over, 
and   the  radical's   triumph  will   be  complete. 

The  failure  to  comprehend  this  historic  law, —  this 
fact  that  the  new  grows  out  of  the  old,  and  needs  the 
old  as  its  support  and  its  protection  —  is  at  the  bottom  of 
the  reckless  radicalism  of  the  present  day.  I  commend 
to  the  men  who  are  so  eager  to  demolis'h  every  ele- 
ment in  Christian  belief   that  they  cannot  fully  reconcile 


THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD.  IS 

with  their  own  ideas  of  truth,  a  little  careful  study  of 
the   laws    of    growth    in   other   departments    of   life. 

There  is  a  caution,  however,  not  less  needed  on  the 
other  side.  There  is  in  nature  ample  provision  for  re- 
moving the  formed  matter  when  it  has  served  its  pur- 
pose, so  that  it  shall  not  obstruct  the  growth  of  the 
organism.  The  bark  of  the  tree  protects  the  cambium 
layer,  but  is  not  allowed  to  bind  the  tree  so  tightly  as 
to  prevent  the  circulation  of  the  sap.  The  growing  tree 
bursts  the  envelope  of  bark,  and  often  casts  off  much 
of  it.  The  corrugated,  shaggy  surface  of  the  oak  or 
the  maple  or  the  hickory  show  how  the  expanding  life 
rends  this  lifeless  integument.  It  would  not  do  to  put 
a  thrifty  tree  into  an  inelastic  straight-jacket  of  bark. 
It  would  kill  the  tree. 

Something  like  this  is  often  attempted  in  behalf 
of  religious  thought  by  persons  who  suppose  that  in 
doing  it  they  are  promoting  the  interests  of  soundness. 
They  undertake  to  frame  regulations  or  enact  laws  pro- 
viding that  certain  fixed  phrases  or  formularies  shall  be 
inflexibly  and  unchangeably  held  as  containing  the  whole 
of  truth.  A  certain  seminary  in  New  England  was  built 
upon  an  elaborate  and  minute  theological  creed,  and  the 
founders  strictly  and  solemnly  enjoined  that  every  article 
of  this  creed  should  "forever  remain  entirely  and  iden- 
tically the  same  without  the  least  alteration,  addition,  or 
diminuation."  What  a  prodigious  conviction  of  his  own 
omniscience  the  man  must  have  who  could  put  such  a 
provision  into  the  charter  of  a  theological  seminar}'- ! 
Did  these  godly  founders  suppose  that  they  knew  all 
the   theology   that   ever  ought   to  exist   and   that  wisdom 


H  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

would  die  with  them?  What  right  had  they  to  ordain 
that  every  scribe  employed  to  teach  the  doctrine  of  the 
Kingdom  in  that  seminary  should  forever  bring  forth 
out   of    his   treasure  everything   old    and    nothing    new? 

The  value  of  historic  creeds,  or  confessions  of  faith, 
in  guiding  and  steadying  the  movements  of  religious 
thought,  no  wise  man  will  dispute ;  the  folly  of  rashly 
casting  them  away  has  been,  I  trust,  sufficiently  de- 
monstrated ;  nevertheless  historic  confessions  must  be  his- 
torically interpreted  ;  it  is  only  by  a  large,  free  method 
of  handling  them  that  they  are  kept  from  being  fetters 
to   the   life  of  faith. 

Not  only  in  the  formation  of  our  beliefs,  but  in 
the  shaping  of  our  methods  of  thinking  this  discussion 
ought  to  help  us.  Mankind  is  divided,  for  the  most 
part,  into  two  hostile  camps  —  radicals  on  one  side,  con- 
servatives on  the  other ;  men  who  despise  everything 
that  is  old  and  men  who  hate  everything  that  is  new. 
The  wise  man  belongs  to  neither  of  these  camps ;  he 
has  learned  to  take  a  broader  view  which  unites  what 
God  has  joined  together,  and  what  these  contending 
parties  are  trying  to  put  asunder.  When  he  finds  two 
disputants  fighting,  over  a  question  he  always  reflects 
that  it  is  often  possible,  by  the  use  of  a  little  patience 
and  comprehension,  to  discover  a  statement  that  shall  in- 
clude both  the  truths  for  which  th^y  are  contending. 
He  is  not  a  partisan  of  the  new  nor  of  the  old ;  he 
has  been  a  disciple  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  long 
enough  to  have  in  his  treasure,  and  to  be  able  to  bring 
out   of    it,   things    new   and   old. 

When   we    pass   from    the   realm    of    opinion    to    the 


THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD.  15 

realm  of  conduct,  we  find  still  other  uses  for  our  prin- 
ciple. In  our  work  as  citizens  and  as  reformers  of 
society,  the  new  and  the  old  must  always  be  blended. 
The  great  elements  of  manhood  are  no  novelties.  Faith, 
hope,  love,  obedience,  courage,  patience,  fidelity,  these 
are  all  old  fashioned  virtues  —  old  as  the  patriarchs  — 
but  nothing  better  has  been  invented  in  the  most  mod- 
ern times.  Nevertheless  new  occasions  are  always  arising 
for  the  exercise  of  these  virtues  and  they  find  new  fields 
to  till  and  new  tongues  to  speak  and  new  weapons  to 
wield  in  every  generation.  It  is  for  us  to  give  new 
life   and    meaning   to   these   old    virtues. 

The  society  about  us  requires  the  infusion  of  some 
new  elements.  The  people  among  whom  we  live  need 
to  see  new  views  of  truth,  and  to  be  stirred  to  new 
duties  and  to  be  led  into  new  ways ;  this  is  part 
of  our  high  calling ;  but  let  us  not  suffer  ourselves 
to  forget  how  many  and  precious  are  the  elements  in 
our  social  life  that  must  be  sacredly  and  thankfully 
conserved.  There  are  many  changes,  in  these  days,  we 
say ;  and  so  there  are ;  some  for  the  better,  and  some, 
no  doubt,  for  the  worse ;  yet  how  many  things  there 
are  that  do  not  change,  thank  God  !  The  face  of  the 
country  alters  somewhat,  from  year  to  year ;  here  is  a 
field  where  once  was  a  forest ;  and  here  is  a  village 
where  once  was -a  farm;  but  after  all  the  great  features 
of  the  earth  remain  substantially  the  same  from  one 
generation   to    another ; 

"The   liills, 
Roek-ribbed   and   ancient   as    the   sun, — " 


16  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

stand  just  where  they  stood  when  the  prow  of  the 
caraval  of  Columbus  first  cut  the  waters  of  our  Western 
seas ;  the  valleys  lie  in  peace  between  and  the  rivers 
keep  their  courses ;  while  over  all  the  stars  shine  nightly 
as  they  shone  upon  Abraham  when  he  journeyed  from 
Haran  to  the  far  land  of  promise.  There  are  great 
changes,  you  say,  in  the  husbandry  of  these  daj's ;  new 
machines,  new  methods,  new  industries,  —  and  this  is 
true ;  yet  all  the  great  facts  and  laws  of  husbandry  are 
the  same  to-day  that  they  were  when  Joseph  filled  the 
granaries  of  Pharaoh ;  it  is  the  same  energy  of  life 
in  the  seed ;  the  same  old  earth  that  hides  and  feeds 
it;  the  same  old  sun  that  quickens  it;  the  same  gentle 
rain  that  waters  it ;  the  same  vigilant  industry  that 
plants  and  tends  and  harvests  it.  So  it  is  in  the 
community.  Some  changes  are  constantly  taking  place 
therein,  and  in  most  communities  more  changes  might 
well  take  place ;  but  none  of  us  is  likely  to  be  called 
to  live  in  any  neighborhood  in  this  Christian  land  where 
the  duty  of  guarding  and  cherishing  that  which  is  old 
will  not  be  one  of  his  first  duties.  The  institutions  of 
our  free  government  —  how  old  they  are,  and  how  sacred! 
Many  persons  imagine  that  our  Revolutionary  fathers 
invented  them ;  but  some  of  you  know  how  deep  their 
roots  run  down  into  English  history.  The  duty  of 
protecting  these  from  the  spoilers  is  part  of  our  high 
calling.  The  Church  of  God  —  it  is  as  old  as  the  human 
race,  and  nothing  will  ever  be  found  to  take  the  place 
of  its  holy  sacraments  and  its  solemn  services.  It  is 
a  branch  of  God's  own  planting,  and  it  shall  not  be 
plucked   up.      To   water    it    with    the    dew   of   youth    and 


THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD.  17 

nourish  it  with  the  strength  of  manhood,  —  this,  too,  is 
part  of  our  high  calling.  The  family  —  whose  nurture 
most  of  us  have  known,  whose  sacred  influences  have 
molded  all  our  lives  - —  the  family  is  no  nineteenth 
century  discovery ;  but  it  is  the  most  precious  thing  on 
the  earth  to-day.  What  infinite  stores  of  tenderness 
and  grace  and  inspiration  there  are  abiding  in  the  tens 
of  thousands  of  American  homes.  A  little  scene  that 
I  saw  in  the  railway  car  not  long  ago  —  a  young  mother, 
with  her  first  child,  coming  home  fron*i  the  far  West  on 
a  visit  to  her  father's  house ;  the  door  of  the  car 
opening  at  the  station  next  before  the  one  to  which  she 
was  bound,  and  a  man  with  beard  sprinkled  with  gray 
entering ;  the  young  matron,  flying  to  him,  and  flinging 
herself  into  his  arms ;  and  then  the  two  coming  back 
together;  the  grandfather  picking  up  the  little  one  — 
the  child  of  his  child  —  and  searching  its  face  with 
unspeakable  tenderness,  while  the  mother  looked  on 
proud  and  happy  —  who  could  see  it  and  not  have  the 
thankful  tears  spring  into  his  eyes  because  of  what  it 
told  him  of  the  strength  and  sacredness  of  the  bond 
that  binds  parents  and  children  together  in  the  sanctuary 
of  the  household.  Of  this  sanctuary  we  are  called  to 
be  the  guardians  and  defenders ;  against  all  the  foes 
with  unclean  hands  that  now  assail  its  foundations 
and  spoil  its  peace  we  are  called  to  wage  a  holy  war- 
fare ;  by  all  our  memories  of  home,  and  the  love  we 
bear  our  mothers,  we  are  prompted  to  honor  and  cherish 
this    oldest   and    divinest   of   the   gifts    of   God    to   man. 

That  we  must   be  ready  in    all   our   intercourse   with 
men   to   welcome   new  truth,   to    lead    in    new- movements 


18  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

for  the  elevation  of  society,  to  be  ourselves  the  harbingers 
of  new  ideas  and  enterprises  —  all  this  scarcely  needs 
saying.  The  Zeitgeist,  as  Mr.  Arnold  calls  it,  keeps  us 
mindful  of  this  duty ;  I  only  wish  to  show  how  mu^h 
there  is  to  conserve  as  well  as  to  create ;  how  the 
spirit  of  reverence  must  always  be  joined  with  the 
spirit  of  invention ;  how  the  new  and  the  old  must  be 
always  inseparably  joined  in  the  work  of  the  wise  social 
reformer. 

There  remains  to  be  considered  the  relation  of  this 
law  of  growth  to  the  formation  of  character.  The  true 
life  healthily  combines  that  which  is  new  with  that  which 
is  old. 

That  which  is  old  in  our  experience  is  that  part 
of  our  life  which  has  become  habitual.  That  ought  to 
be  the  largest  part  of  our  moral  and  religious  life. 
The  formation  of  good  habits  —  habits  of  devotion  — 
habits  of  church-going,  and  of  Bible  study,  and  of  private 
meditation  and  secret  prayer;  habits  of  just  and  con- 
siderate and  kindly  speech;  habits  of  careful  and  dis- 
criminating thought;  habits  of  activity  in  all  good  work, 
and  of  fidelity  in  the  discharge  of  every  obligation  we 
assume ;  habits  of  benevolence  in  giving  and  in  serving ; 
habits  of  courtesy  and  temperance  and  manly  dignity 
and  womanly  grace — this  is  a  most  important  element 
in  moral  and  religious  culture.  We  ought  to  be  learning 
to  do  many  of  these  things  —  to  illustrate  many  of  these 
virtues  —  without  effort  or  volition,  as  by  second  nature. 
Our  good  feelings,  wishes,  impulses,  the  good  promptings  of 
the  Spirit  of  all  grace,  ought  to  be  continually  solidifying 
into   habits.     Writers  on    habits   often  confine  themselves 


THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD.  19 

to  the  danger  of  forming  evil  habits ;  but  the  importance 
of  forming  good  ones  needs  to  be  enforced,  not  less 
strenuously.  The  best  part  —  at  any  rate  the  largest 
part  —  of  every  life  is  habitual,  and  the  need  of  getting 
the  good  thoughts  and  purposes  and  sentiments  that 
are  often  fitful  and  desultory  organized  into  habits  is 
therefore  urgent.  The  transformation  of  the  floating 
capital  of  vtrtue  into  fixed  capital  is  the  condition  of 
all   highest   growth. 

As  four-fifths  of  the  healthy  physical  organism  is 
formed  matter,  so  I  think  at  least  four-fifths  of  the 
spiritual   organism    should    be   formed   character. 

Yet  the  character  thus  formed  needs  to  be  continually 
reformed.  New  light,  new  truths,  new  relations,  new 
powers,  call  for  new  adjustments  of  our  thought  and  new 
departures  in  our  conduct.  A  religious  life  that  is  summed 
up  in  its  habits ;  that  is  wholly  formed  and  never  re- 
newed;  into  which  no  new  motives,  no  new  inspirations, 
no  new  endeavors  enter,  is  a  poor  and  barren  life.  If 
we  have  put  on  the  new  man,  that  is  no  excuse  for  a 
stereotyped  experience.  Paul  says  that  the  "  new  man " 
is  one  who  is  "being  renewed  day  by  day."  He  would 
not   be   a   new   man    long   unless   this   were   true   of    him. 

While  therefore  the  Christian  character  needs  those 
elements  of  permanence  and  solidity  which  are  furnished 
by  good  habits,  while  these  are  necessary  conditions  of 
life  and  growth,  it  needs  also  fresh  thinking,  fresh 
resolution,  fresh  endeavor  every  day.  Some  measure  of 
order  and  regularity  it  must  possess ;  but  when  it  degen- 
erates into  more  routine  —  when  the  prayers  are  routine 
prayers,  and  the  service  is  a  routine  service,  and  there  are 


20  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

no  new  visions  of  truth,  and  no  new  views  of  duty,  the 
divine  life  withers  and  perishes  in  the  soul  of  man.  It 
thrives  only  upon  the  wise  combination  of  things  new 
and  old.  It  joins  the  steadfastness  and  strength  of  good 
habits  with  the  freshness  and  joy  of  daily  inspirations. 
There  is  but  one  more  word,  but  that  may  be  to  some 
of  you  of  deeper  moment  than  anything  I  have  said.  Who 
is  this  that  brings  forth  from  his  treasure  things  new 
and  old?  It  is  not  the  bachelor  of  science,  it  is  not  the 
student  of  literature,  it  is  not  the  doctor  of  divinity,  it  is 
one  who  has  been  admitted  to  higher  honors,  who  has  been 
made  a  disciple  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  If  you  have 
entered  upon  that  discipleship,  if  by  a  sincere  and  hearty 
faith  you  have  chosen  Jesus  Christ  to  be  the  Lord  of  all 
your  life,  then,  from  the  exhaustless  treasures  of  his  grace 
you  may  bring  forth  every  day  the  wisdom  that  shall 
guide  you  and  the  strength  that  shall  nerve  you  and  the 
hope  that  shall  hearten  you  in  the  strife  before  you.  Under 
this  Master,  in  this  discipleship,  you  shall  work  out  the 
problems  of  life  successfully,  and  you  cannot  afford  to 
try  to  work  them  out  alone.  His  grace  will  not  fail  you ; 
the  power  that  comes  from  self-conquest  and  the  peace 
that  follows  after  He  is  waiting  to  give  to  every  man  who 
will  become  his  disciple.  May  God  help  you  to  seek  His 
friendship  if  you  have  not  found  it ;  to  trust  it  more  and 
more ;  to  walk  in  the  strength  and  joy  of  it  through  all 
your  days  of  toil  and  sorrow,  and  to  enter  at  last  by  its 
commanding  word  the  gates  of  that  city  where  we  shall 
hail  old  friends  with  new  faces,  and  speak  old  words 
with  new  meaning,  and  fill  the  eternal  arches  with  our 
glad   new  song. 


GOOD   GIFTS  TO  OUR   CHILDREN. 


Matthew   vii:    9-11. 

"Or  what  man  is  there  of  you,  who  if  his  son  shall  ask  him  for  a 
loaf  will  give  him  a  stone ;  or  if  he  shall  ask  for  a  fish  will  give 
him  a  serpent?  If  ye  then,  being  evil,  know  hoiv  to  give  good 
gifts    unto   your   children" 

It  is  true,  then,  that  all  parents  ought  to  know  how 
to  give  good  gifts  to  their  children.  But  the  knowing  how 
to  which  Jesus  refers  in  the  text  is  the  (Hsposition  of  the 
father,  rather  than  his  discernment;  his  willingness,  more 
than  his  wisdom.  "  You  who  are  parents,"  he  says,  "  have 
the  wish  and  the  will  to  do  your  children  good ;  you  do 
not  mean  anything  but  kindness ;  and  your  heavenly 
Father's  purposes  toward  you  are  certainly  not  less  kind 
than  yours  toward  your  children."  This  is  what  our 
Lord  teaches  by  this  comparison.  He  certainly  does  not 
say  that  the  judgment  of  parents  as  to  what  things  are 
good  for  their  children  is  always  wise.  No  father  means 
to  give  his  child  a  stone  instead  of  a  loaf;  but  many  a 
father  ignorantly  gives  his  boy  a  loaf  with  a  stone  in  it. 
And  the  duty  of  knowing  how  to  give  good  gifts,  in  a 
literal  sense  —  of  having  not  only  the  disposition  but  the 


Z2  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

intelligence  necessary  for  the  giving  of  good  gifts  —  is 
a   duty   that   needs   to   be    studied. 

"  But  is  this  necessary? "  some  one  is  asking.  ''  Is 
not  love  the  fulfilling  of  the  law?  And  if  we  love  our 
children  —  and  we  certainly  do  love  them  —  will  not  love 
be  the  surest  guide  in  bestowing  our  gifts  on  them?" 
Unfortunately  it  will  not.  There  are  proofs  enough,  all 
about  us,  that  the  impulse  of  aflFection  is  not  always  wise. 
Love  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law,  only  when  there  is  first 
a  law  for  love  to  fulfil.  Your  ideals  are  the  product  not 
of  affection,  but  of  intelligence.  You  must  have  some 
notion  of  what  ought  to  be  done  before  love  can  prompt 
you  to  do  anything.  Our  wisdom  and  our  conscience  lay 
down  the  lines  on  which  affection  runs.  Love  fills  the 
law,  and  overfills  it,  with  its  own  sweet  impulse ;  but  the 
law  must  be  there,  or  love  is  as  likely  to  be  a  curse  as 
a  blessing.  We  need,  therefore,  not  merely  to  cherish  a 
fondness  for  our  children,  but  also  diligently  to  apply 
our  minds  to  the  problem  of  determining  what  gifts  are 
best  for  them.  The  obligations  thus  laid  down  will  give 
the  law  to  love  —  a  law  that  love  may   safely  fulfil. 

What,  then,  are  the   gifts  we  owe  our  children? 

1.  First  among  them  is  a  careful  training  in  obedi- 
ence. Training  in  obedience,  I  say ;  not  simply  teaching 
them  obedience.  And  what  is  training?  To  train  a  body 
of  troops  is  not  merely  to  give  them  lectures  on  tactics, 
but  to  put  them  through  the  manual  of  arms  so  often 
and  so  thoroughly  that  they  shall  come  at  length  to  move 
under  the  orders  of  the  commander  with  promptness  and 
precision.  Training  involves  not  merely  instruction,  but 
drill  and  discipline.      It  implies  not  only  telling  a  child 


THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 


what  he  ought  to  do  but  showing  him  how  to  do  it,  and 
making  him  do  it  over  and  over  again,  until  the  doing 
of  the  thing  shall  come  to  be  a  second  nature  to  him. 

The  training  of  a  boat's  crew  is  not  only  making 
known  to  them  the  way  to  dip  and  to  pull  and  to  feather 
and  to  recover,  but  it  is  the  exercise  of  the  crew  in  these 
movements  every  day. 

To  train  a  vine  is  not  merely  to  mark  out  on  the 
wall  or  the  trellis  the  place  where  you  want  the  vine 
to  run,  but  to  lead  it  carefully  along  and  fasten  it,  by 
proper   means,   in    that   place. 

Training  involves,  therefore,  uniformity  and  continuity 
of  action.  The  training  of  a  company  of  soldiers  or  a 
crew  of  oarsmen  proceeds  regularly,  without  intermission, 
day  by  day.  If  the  troops  went  through  the  manual  of 
arms  only  now  and  then,  semi-occasionally,  as  it  happened 
to  suit  their  caprice  or  the  convenience  of  the  drill  master, 
they  would  never  be  brought  under  thorough  discipline. 
The  oarsmen  in  training  for  a  race  row  every  day,  and 
in  the  winter,  when  the  river  is  frozen,  they  have  an 
apparatus  rigged  in  the  gymnasium  by  which  they  secure 
the  same  kind  of  exercise,  every  day. 

These  illustrations  show  what  is  meant  by  the  training 
of  children.  It  is  leading  them  to  practice,  steadily  and 
regularly,  day  by  day,  the  lessons  of  conduct  that  you 
teach  them. 

Probably  most  of  us  err  in  teaching  too  much,  and 
in  training  too  little.  There  is  too  much  teaching  and 
scolding,  and  too  little  steady  enforcement  of  the  laws 
laid  down.  Training  implies  government,  but  not  violent 
methods.       The    regular    performances    of    certain    duties 


THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 


must  be  required  of  the  children  ;  some  of  these  duties 
will  be  irksome  to  them ;  their  sports  will  call  them 
away,  and  there  must  be  authority  to  hold  them  firmly 
to  the  performance.  The  moral  order  of  a  household 
ought  to  be  as  inflexible  as  the  order  of  nature,  and  ought 
to  be  enforced  just  as  quietly. 

And  this  training  is  itself  a  realized  obedience.  It 
is  a  drill  in  obedience.  It  couples  with  submission  and 
subordination  of  the  will  an  automatic  tendency.  Training 
has  many  uses  besides  securing  the  habit  of  obedience ; 
but  it  secures  obedience  and  this  is  the  prime  quality  of 
good  character.  No  man  is  good  for  anything  who  has  not 
learned  the  easy,  prompt,  cheerful  submission  of  his  will 
to  rightful  authority.  All  his  life  he  will  live  under  the 
hand  of  rightful  authority  ;  the  first  condition  of  his  peace 
and  welfare  is  that  he  should  readily  submit  to  it.  He 
must  obey  the  laws  of  the  State,  or  be  a  felon  ;  he  must 
obey  the  orders  of  his  superiors  in  business,  or  he  can 
never  engage  in  business;  he  must  obey  the  laws  of 
nature,  or  be  a  helpless  invalid  or  a  crazy  fool ;  he  must 
obey  the  laws  of  God,  or  make  shipwreck  of  his  life.  How 
necessary  it  is,  therefore,  that  he  learn  in  his  childhood 
to  submit  himself  to  rightful  authority  !  The  child  who 
has  not  been  taught  that  lesson  has  been  defrauded  of 
the  greatest  benefit  his  parents  could  bestow  upon  him. 
I  have  known  many  whose  lives  were  failures  from  this 
cause  alone ;  in  their  childhood  they  never  learned  obedi- 
ence ;  and  the  habit  of  insubordination  made  it  impos- 
sible for  them  to  work  in  harness ;  the  testy  temper  and 
the  unschooled  will  constantly  ruptured  their  relations 
with    men    and    destroyed    the  very  conditions  of  success. 


OOOD    GIFTS     TO    OUR    CHILDREN.  25 

Whatever  else  you  fail  to  give  your  children,  fail  not  to 
train  them  in  this  one  essential  of  the  highest  character. 
It  seems  to  those  who  have  not  tried  it  an  easy  matter 
to  enforce  obedience,  but  it  is  not  half  so  easy  as  it  seems. 
There  are  many  who  make  much  ado  about  it,  but  never 
secure  it;  there  are  some  who  seem  to  get  it  without  any 
effort  at  all.  I  saw  on  a  railway  train,  one  day  last  autumn, 
a  mother  take  a  little  girl  of  two  years  old  —  a  thoroughly 
vital,  active  child  —  and  lay  her  down  upon  the  seat  of  the 
car,  a  little  distance  from  herself,  for  her  afternoon  nap.  It 
was  gently,  smilingly  done ;  there  was  no  exercise  of  power 
in  the  case ;  the  child  looked  up  sweetly  in  the  mother's 
face ;  there  was  no  reminiscence  in  the  look  of  a  former 
struggle,  in  which  the  stronger  will  had  conquered ;  there 
had  been  no  such  struggle ;  and  when  the  mother  went 
away  to  her  own  seat,  the  child  lay  there,  cooing  and 
prattling  to  herself,  now  and  then  calling  in  the  sweetest 
and  happiest  way,  "  Good-night,  mamma  !  "  By  and  by  the 
mother  came  and  bent  over  her ;  a  smile  was  on  her  face  all 
the  while,  and  the  smile  was  reflected  from  the  baby's  face ; 
the  mother  spoke  low ;  I  could  not  hear  what  she  said,  but 
I  knew  that  she  was  telling  the  baby  that  she  must  not 
talk ;  and  when  she  returned  to  her  seat  the  child  lay  there 
perfectly  silent,  looking  about  her  in  a  childish  way,  her 
large  eyes  full  of  speculation,  thinking  over  in  silence  her 
own  baby  thoughts  which  she  had  before  been  thinking 
aloud,  until  at  last  the  eyelids  drooped  and  she  fell  asleep. 
Now  that  mother  had  the  faculty  of  enforcing  obedience 
in  the  right  way.  No  doubt  her  will  was  firm ;  there 
was  no  vacillation  or  uncertainty ;  but  her  ways  were  so 
•gentle   and    wise   that   the   child's   obedience    was    secured 


26  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

without  an  effort.  Happy  child,  to  be  under  the  care 
of  such  a  mother !  It  is  a  great  gift ;  not  all  of  us 
have  it  by  nature ;  but  it  ought  to  be  earnestly  coveted 
and  diligently  cultivated  by  all  of   us. 

I  am  convinced  that  the  value  of  obedience  has  been 
greatly  overlooked  in  our  recent  American  life.  The 
fierce  individualism  of  our  modern  civilization  has  in- 
vaded the  household ;  the  Declaration  of  Independence 
seems  to  be  taught  to  babes  in  their  cradles ;  parents 
assert  their  authority  weakly  and  with  uncertainty ; 
children  often  challenge  it  defiantly  and  successfully  It 
is  a  great  national  misfortune.  Lawlessness  in  the  house- 
hold will  breed  lawlessness  in  the  state.  Co-ordinated 
society  rests  back  on  discipline  in  the  family.  Mr.  Bagehot 
says:  "In  a  Roman  family  the  boys,  from  the  time  of 
their  birth,  were  bred  to  a  domestic  despotism  which 
well  prepared  them  for  a  subjection  in  after  life  to  a 
military  discipline,  a  military  drill,  and  a  military  despot- 
ism. ,  They  were  ready  to  obey  their  generals  because 
they  were  compelled  to  obey  their  fathers  ;  they  conquered 
the  world  in  manhood  because  as  children  they  were 
bred  in  homes  where  the  tradition  of  passionate  valor 
was    steadied   by   the   habit   of    implacable    order." 

Now  we  want  no  despotism,  parental  nor  military ; 
but  we  do  want  order  and  subordination  ;  no  nation  can 
live  without  them ;  and  if  we  keep  them  in  the  state, 
we  must  have  them  first  in  the  household.  It  is  a  patriotic 
duty  that  we  owe  the  state  as  well  as  a  sacred  duty  we 
owe  our  children  to  give  them  a  thorough  schooling  in 
this   primary   virtue. 


THINGS    XEW    AND    OLD.  27 

"Three  roots  bear  up  dominion;    Knowledge,  Will, 

These   two   are   strong,   but   stronger  still    the   third, 
Obedience;    'tis   the  great   tap-root,    which   still, 
Knit   round    the   rock    of    Duty,    is   not   stirred 
Though    storm    and   tempest   spend    their   utmost   skill." 

2.  Another  gift  that  we  owe  our  children  is  a  careful 
training  in  the  unselfish  virtues.  Here,  again,  the  differ- 
ence between  teaching  and  training  comes  distinctly  into 
view.  It  is  by  no  means  sufficient  to  teach  our  children 
to  be  unselfish,  or  to  set  them  an  example  of  unselfishness ; 
we  must  give  them  a  chance  to  exercise  the  altruistic 
virtues;  to  take  pains  and  make  sacrifices  for  others. 
Many  parents,  in  the  excess  of  their  good  nature,  take 
upon  themselves  all  the  burdens  and  hardships  of  the 
family,  letting  the  children  grow  up  in  indolence  and 
pleasure  —  taking  on  themselves  no  care,  helping,  in  no 
wa}^  to  bear  the  common  load.  Parents  sometimes  sup- 
pose that  by  their  own  self-sacrifice  in  behalf  of  their 
children  they  will  teach  their  children  self-sacrifice,  but 
unfortunately  it  is  not  always  so ;  the  children  become 
heartless  instead  of  dutiful ;  they  take  as  a  matter  of 
course  all  that  is  given  them  or  done  for  them  and  are 
not  ashamed  to  ask  for  more ;  they  are  hardened  and 
spoiled  by  the  indulgence.  This  habit  of  unselfishness, 
like  the  habit  of  obedience,  must  be  learned  by  practice ; 
and  it  is  a  great  wrong  to  our  children  not  to  give  them 
plenty  of  opportunities  to  practice  it  for  the  benefit  of 
one  another,  and  of  their  parents.  The  parents  are  con- 
tinually denying  themselves  for  the  benefit  of  their  chil- 
dren,  and   the   children    must   often  deny   themselves   for 


28         •  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

the  benefit  of  their  pareyts.  It  is  not  right  for  the 
parents  to  go  seedy  that  the  children  may  be  dressed 
in  finery ;  it  is  not  right  for  the  parents  to  toil  and 
moil  night  and  day  to  gain  money  for  the  children  to 
spend  in  idleness  and  pleasuring.  It  is  not  fair  to  the 
children,  to  let  them  grow  up  in  this  way.  Do  give  your 
children  a  chance,  I  pray  —  a  chance  to  accjuire  by  prac- 
tice in  their  childhood  those  common  virtues  of  unselfish- 
ness, those  habits  of  postponing  their  own  pleasure  for 
the  good  of  others,  without  which  their  lives  will  be 
full   of   irritation    and   warfare. 

Not  only  obedience  but  unselfishness,  also,  is  the 
condition  of  living  happily  in  co-ordinated  society.  A 
society  in  which  each  one  is  guaranteed  his  simple  rights  ; 
in  which  contracts  "are  enforced,  and  no  man  is  hindered 
in  pursuing  his  interests,  would  not  be  the  best  society. 
"  Daily  experiences  prove,"  says  Mr.  Herbert  Spencer,  "  that 
every  one  would  suflier  many  evils  and  lose  many  goods, 
did  none  give  him  unpaid  assistance.  The  life  of  each 
would  be  more  or  less  damaged,  had  he  to  meet  all 
contingencies  single-handed.  Further,  if  no  one  did  for 
his  fellows  anything  more  than  was  required  by  strict 
performance  of  contract,  private  interests  would  suffer 
from  the  absence  of  attention  to  public  interests."  That 
would  be  a  wretched  state  of  society  in  which  there  were 
no  unselfish  and  voluntary  efforts  to  further  the  wel- 
fare of  others,  and  to  promote  without  reward  the  general 
welfare.  And  ^Ir.  Spencer  says,  in  another  place,  in  his 
philosophic  phrases,  that  "  only  when  altruistic  relations 
in  the  domestic  group  have  reached  highly  developed 
forms,    do    there    arise    conditions    making    possible    full 


GOOD    GIFTS     TO    OUR    CHILDREN.  29 

development  of  altruistic  relations  in  the  political  group." 
The  words  are  technical  but  the  meaning  is  not  obscure. 
It  is  a  statement  of  the  simple  truth  that  onl}^  when 
children  are  trained  at  home  to  live  for  others,  does 
socitety   become   fit   to   live   in. 

Here,  too,  you  see  how  far  reaching  are  the  effects 
of  our  home  training.  Not  only  is  the  child  who  is 
suffered  to  grow  up  with  egoistic  temper  and  habits 
wholly  unfitted  to  find  any  comfort  and  happiness  for 
himself  in  life,  he  is  also  sure  to  be  a  disturbing  and 
disorganizing  force  in  society.  If  all  people  were  like 
him  there  could  be  no  society.  How  important  is  it, 
then,  that  you  give  your  children  careful  training  in  the 
altruistic  virtues !  It  is  not  enough  to  teach  them  to 
care  for  themselves;    they  must  learn  to  care  for  others. 

3.  Another  gift  that  we  ought  to  impart  to  our 
children  is  a  worthy  and  high  ideal.  By  this  I  mean 
that  we  ought,  in  choosing  for  them,  to  choose  the  highest 
things ;  to  set  before  ourselves,  as  the  prize  which  we 
want  them  to  win,  that  which  is  really  precious,  and 
to  lead  them,  so  far  as  we  can,  to  choose  that  which 
we  have  chosen  for  them.  This  last  is  often  a  difficult 
thing  to  do.  It  is  not  always  possible  to  get  the  grow- 
ing, mercurial,  boisterous  boy  to  look  upon  life  with 
his  fathers'  eyes;  to  take  the  same  view  of  what  is 
best  and  highest  that  his  father  takes.  But  it  is  pos- 
sible for  you  to  choose  a  worthy  career  and  a  noble 
destiny,  and  to  keep  your  choice  before  tliem,  assisting 
them,  so  far  as  you  can,  to  comprehend  its  worthiness 
and   its    nobility. 

What  is  it  that  you   have  chosen  for  your  children? 


30  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

It  is  well  to  settle  it  in  your  own  minds.  What  are 
the  possessions  and  attainments  that  you  most  covet  for 
them?  What  is  the  kind  of  success  that  you  are  most 
anxious  they  should  achieve?  Is  it  material  success?  Is 
it  the  possession  of  wealth?  Is  it  social  standing?  Is 
it  political  advancement  for  your  son?  Is  it  a  marriage 
for  your  daughter  with  some  rich  man  who  can  assure 
her  a  life  of  elegant  leisure?  Are  these  things,  or  such 
as  these,  the  things  that  you  most  desire  your  children 
to  obtain?  Or  do  you  most  earnestly  covet  for  them  the 
values  of  character, —  intelligence,  purity,  integrity,  cour- 
age, manliness,  womanliness,  faith,  charity?  Concerning 
which  of  these  classes  of  desirable  possessions  have  you 
the  most  anxiety?  Doubtless  the  financial  and  the  social 
successes  are  desirable  ;  you  have  a  perfect  right  to  wish 
that  they  may  gain  a  fair  measure  of  such  worldly  good ; 
but  on  which  of  these  kinds  of  good  does  the  emphasis 
fall  when  you  speak  to  yourselves  in  secret  places  of  the 
future  of  your  children?  Of  course  you  want  them  to 
be  good  and  pure  and  noble,  but  is  that  what  you  want 
most? 

I  am  afraid  that  this  is  not  what  all  parents  most 
desire  for  their  children.  Some  pretty  good  people,  some 
church  members,  act  as  though  they  thought  these  things 
of  minor  importance.  It  is  plain  that  they  want  their 
children  to  get  on  in  life ;  to  have  good  situations ;  to 
win  promotion  ;  to  make  fortunate  alliances  ;  they  want 
all  these  things  for  them,  very  much ;  but  it  is  not  so  plain 
that  they  want  them  to  be  upright  ^-nd  clean  and  brave 
and  faithful.  Would  they  be  willing  to  have  their  chil- 
dren sacrifice  those  material  gains  for  these  spiritual  ones? 


GOOD    GIFTS    TO    OUR    CHILDREN. 


Well,  it  is  not  so  clear;    it  looks  as  though  they  would 
think   it   too   great   a   sacrifice. 

Now  the  truth  is  that  the  children  are  sure  to  know 
what  our  deepest  and  strongest  wishes  are  concerning  them. 
It  does  not  matter  what  we  say ;  they  know  what  is  in  our 
hearts.  And  although  it  may  be  hard  to  get  them  to  choose 
for  themselves  the  highest  things,  even  if  we  do  choose 
the  highest  things  for  them,  they  will  be  pretty  sure  not 
to  choose  the  highest  things  if  they  know  that  we  are 
most  earnestly  coveting  for  them  things  that  are  lower. 
They  will  not  be  apt  to  set  their  mark  any  higher  than 
we  set  it  for  them.  They  may  do  so,  but  it  is  not  probable 
that  they  will.  Therefore  it  is  of  the  utmost  moment  that 
our  choice  for  them  should  be  the  highest;  that  our 
ideal  of  life  —  the  ideal  which  the  constant  tenor  of  our 
conduct    sets   before   them  —  be   a   noble   ideal. 

There  is  many  a  boy  whose  character  is  not  yet  con- 
firnjed,  whose  ideas  vary,  and  whose  purposes  vacillate, 
who  yet  can  say  for  himself,  and  does  often  say  to  himself 
when  he  has  a  thoughtful  hour  :  "  I  know  what  my  father 
and  mother  want  me  to  be.  They  want  me  to  be  true,  and 
honest,  and  manly  and  pure ;  they  want  me  to  be  courteous 
in  manners,  and  generous  in  action ;  they  want  me  to  be  a 
Christian  gentleman.  They  would  like  me  to  have  a  good 
position  in  society  of  course,  and  to  prosper  in  business, 
and  all  that ;  but  they  are  a  thousand  times  more  anxious 
that  I  should  be  good  than  that  I  should  be  rich  or  popular 
or  powerful.  It  is  not  so  much  by  what  they  say  that  I 
know  it ;  every  thing  they  do  for  me,  all  their  own  conduct, 
makes  me  sure  of  what  their  deepest  wishes  are."  Now 
a  boy  who  can  say  that  has  been  made  the  recipient  of  a 


32  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

good  gift  from  his  father  and  mother.  He  may  not  have 
accepted  fully  for  himself  their  choice  for  him,  but  he  has 
before  his  mind  the  right  ideal  of  life ;  it  must  allure  him 
sometimes ;  it  may  win  him  to  choose  it  heartily  for  him- 
self at  last. 

4.  Another  good  gift  that  we  may  impart  to  our 
children  is  education.  I  do  not  use  this  word  in  a  narrow, 
technical  way.  I  mean  to  include  in  it  all  the  forces  that 
we  can  bring  to  bear  that  tend  toward  the  enlargement 
of  their  intelligence  and  the  invigoration  of  their  character. 
Every  opportunity,  of  whatever  sort,  that  you  afford  a 
child,  by  means  of  which  his  knowledge,  is  increased,  his 
judgment  trained,  his  moral  sense  purified,  may  be  re- 
garded as  part  of  his  education.  It  is  not  merely  his 
schooling  —  that  is  part  of  it,  and  may  be  a  most  valuable 
part ;  it  is  all  the  expenditure  that  you  make  for  the 
development  of  his  power.  This  expenditure  ought  to 
be    considered   in   the   light  of    an   investment. 

One  of  the  religious  newspapers  had  an  editorial  last 
summer  on  Investing  in  a  Boy.  It  is  a  good  word  to 
ponder.  A  boy  is  a  good  sort  of  security  for  you  to  invest 
in;  and  a  girl  is  just  as  good.  Looked  at  in  a  commercial 
way,  they  are  about  as  good  securities  as  any.  But  I  am 
not  looking  at  them  now  in  a  commercial  way.  It  may  be 
true,  as  Dr.  Magoon  once  sardonically  said,  that  many 
a  father,  after  spending  much  money  on  the  education  of  a 
stupid  boy,  might  well  cry  out  in  the  words  of  Aaron,  "I 
cast  all  that  gold  into  the  fire,  and  lo  there  came  out  this 
calf ! "  But  it  would  be  a  cynical  view  of  life  which  repre- 
sented this  to  be  the  rule.  There  are  and  always  will  be 
unfilial  children;  as  there  are,  and  always  will  be,  parents 


GOOD    GIFTS    TO    OUR    CHILDREN.  33 

who  never  do  any  thing  to  deserve  filial  love  and  reverence ; 
but  it  is  a  rule  that  what  parents  thoughtfully  and  wisely 
invest  in  their  children,  brings  them  the  best  returns 
they  ever  get.  If  it  does  not  all  come  back  in  money, 
that  is  no  sign  that  it  is  wasted.  If  the  money  that 
you  expend  on  your  boy's  education  makes  a  man  of  him ; 
fits  him  to  live  a  happy  and  a  useful  life ;  enlarges  the 
horizon  of  his  mind ;  opens  to  him  the  resources  of  nature 
and  of  literature ;  enables  him  to  commune  with  the  great 
minds  of  the  race,  and  to  think  God's  thoughts  after  him  — 
it  is  money  well  invested,  even  if  it  does  not  result  in 
making  of  him  a  Gould  or  a  Vanderbilt.  Money  that  you 
expend  on  clothes,  and  luxuries,  and  diversions  —  on  giving 
children  what  are  sometimes  called  social  advantages,  may 
not  always  be  wisely  expended  ;  but  every  thing  that  you 
can  do  with  money  toward  building  up  their  manhood  or 
their  womanhood,  toward  enlarging  their  mental  or  their 
moral  powers,  is   money  well  expended. 

5.  Finally,  a  good  gift  wherewith  you  may  enrich  your 
children  is  your  confidence.  You  can  believe  in  them. 
You  can  hold  fast  your  faith  in  their  future.  And  that,  by 
the  way,  is  a  good  gift  that  you  can  all  bestow  on  children ; 
on  other  people's  children  as  well  as  your  own ;  on  other 
people's  children  if  you  have  none  of  yoi\r  own.  The 
charity  that  believeth  all  things  and  hopeth  all  things,  is 
worth  just  as  much  to  children  as  to  grown  folks.  Indeed  I 
think  it  is  needed  by  children  rather  more  than  by  grown 
folks.  And  yet  I  am  quite  sure  that  other  people's  children 
get  from  us,  as  a  general  rule,  much  less  charity  than  would 
be  good  for  them  ;  much  less,  indeed,  than  they  deserve. 
It  is  strange  to  see  how  ready  many  persons  are  to  believe 


34  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

all  evil  of  their  neighbor's  children ;  to  put  the  worst 
construction  upon  their  conduct ;  to  refuse  to  see  in  them 
any  redeeming  qualities.  Such  judgments  often  greatly 
injure  those  who  suffer  them  ;  many  a  child  whose  pur- 
pose was  none  too  strong  has  been  driven  into  evil  ways" 
by  the  suspicion  and  lack  of  friendliness  that  met  him 
at  every  turn.  Let  us  be  careful  how  we  hang  this  mill- 
stone round  any  young  person's  neck.  A  slight  paraphrase 
of  the  golden  rule  would  be  well  worth  remembering  by  all 
of  us  :  Whatsoever  ye  would  that  other  people  should  do 
to  your  children,  do  ye  even  so  to  other  people's  children. 

And  if  we  ought  to  give  to  the.  children  of  our 
neighbors  the  benefit  of  our  confidence,  surely  we  ought 
not  to  withold  it  from  our  own.  "Expectations,  like 
prophesies,"  I  once  read  somewhere,  "  tend  to  fulfil  them- 
selves." A  good  strong  expectation  on  behalf  of  our 
children,  a  positive  faith  in  their  future,  will  be  a  comfort 
to  us,  and  a  blessing  to  them. 

The  very  best  thing  about  the  Puritan  faith  was  the 
confidence  which  it  inspired  in  parents  concerning  the 
future  of  their  children.  The  doctrine  of  the  covenant, 
as  it  was  always  taught,  gave  to  believers  a  basis  of 
faith  concerning  their  children  on  which  they  were  led 
to  repose  with  assurance.  No  matter  what  the  theolog- 
ical origin  of  this  faith  may  have  been ;  the  faith  was 
there  in  the  mind  of  the  Puritan,  an  integral  part  of  his 
religion.  It  was  his  duty  to  believe  that  the  children  whom 
God  had  given  to  him,  and  whom  he  had  given  back 
to  the  Lord  in  baptism,  would  be  kept  from  falling,  or 
would  be  restored  if  they  should  wander.  The  filling 
of    the   heart    and   of    the   home   with   such   a   confidence 


GOOD    GIFTS    TO    OUR    CHILDREN.  35 

as  this,  was  the  best  of  blessings  to  the  child.  It  held 
him  back  when  he  was  prone  to  wander;  it  called  him 
back  when  he  had  gone  astray. 

It  does  most  people  good  to  believe  in  them,  to  have 
strong  hopes  for  them,  to  refuse  to  prophesy  evil  con- 
cerning them.  It  is  a  sad  thing  for  a  child  when  his 
parents  lose  faith  in  his  future.  He  is  sure  to  find  it 
out,  and  the  effect  upon  him  is  depressing.  Whatever 
we  can  do,  therefore,  to  strengthen  our  own  faith  in  the 
future  of  our  children  we  ought  to  do ;  for  very  much 
according  to  ov;r  faith  will  it  be,  not  only  to  us,  but 
also   to   our   children. 

By  what  means,  therefore,  can  our  faith  be  strength- 
ened? Often,  I  believe,  it  will  be  strengthened  by  knowing 
our  children  better ;  by  entering  more  fully  into  their 
inner  lives.  Doubtless  we  shall  often  find,  to  our  joy, 
that  seeds  of  good  which  we  had  implanted  in  their 
natures  have  found  lodgment  there ;  that  sound  principles 
of  conduct  from  which  they  are  not  likely  to  swerve 
are  taking  shape  in  their  minds ;  that  under  all  the 
ferment  and  the  fever  of  youth  the  character  is  slowly 
clarifying.  To  watch  for  such  signs,  to  rejoice  in  them 
when  we  see  them,  and  to  give  our  hearty  commendation 
to  every  act  in  which  they  come  to  light  —  this  is  the 
habit   of    all   wise   parents. 

But  is  there  not  a  deeper  reason  for  faith?  Have  we 
not  the  same  reason  that  the  Puritans  had?  If  we  have' it 
not,  who  has  taken  it  away  from  us?  Are  not  these  chil- 
dren of  ours  children  of  the  covenant,  as  truly  as  their 
children  were?  If  we  are  believers  they  surely  are.  All 
they   who   are   of   faith  —  sons    of   faith    themselves  —  are 


36  TfflNGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

blessed  with  the  faithful  Abraham.  If  a  man  has  no 
faith  in  God  for  himself,  he  can,  of  course,  have  no  faith 
for  his  children.  But  whoever  has  given  himself  to  God, 
can  rest  in  the  covenant  God  has  made  with  believers, 
in  which  their  children  are  included.  This  covenant 
gives  us  no  right  to  remit  our  own  vigilance  or  relax 
our  diligence ;  it  is  forfeited  by  our  faithlessness ;  but 
when  we  meet  its  conditions  ourselves  by  honest,  faithful, 
self-denying  endeavors  to  do  the  best  we  can  for  our 
children,  then  it  authorizes  us  to  rely  on  the  silent, 
unslumbering,  all-encompassing,  victorious  grace  of  God, 
to  go  where  we  cannot  follow,  to  speak  when  our  lips  are 
silent,  to  rectify  our  mistakes,  and  mend  what  we  some- 
times mar,  and  finally,  in  God's  own  way,  to  bring  our 
children  into  the  paths  of  life  and  peace.  And  I  am 
sure  that  we  shall  discharge  all  our  duties  to  them  — 
whether  in  warning  or  reproving  or  commending  —  far 
more  wisely  and  helpfully  to  them,  if  we  are  upborne 
and   made    strong   in    heart   by  this   good   confidence. 

I  have  no  more  counsel  for  you  to-night,  my  friends, 
and  I  am  almost  ready  to  ask  your  forgiveness  for  having 
volunteered  so  much.  What  right  have  I  to  instruct 
you?  Do  I  not  know  how  deep  is  your  parental  solicitude, 
with  what  earnestness  you  are  studying  these  problems 
night  and  day?  And  why  should  I  assume  to  direct 
you?  Many  of  you  are  well  able  to  guide  me.  But  I 
have  only  responded  to  a  request,  several  times  repeated, 
in  bringing  these  thoughts  together ;  and  I  leave  them 
with  you,  trusting  that  whatever  truth  is  in  them  may 
be  serviceable  to  you,  and  that  your  own  good  sense 
will  correct  any  errors  that  I  may  have  made.     Defective  we 


GOOD    GIFTS    TO    OUR    CHILDREN.  37 

all  are  in  our  characters,  mistaken  often  in  our  judg- 
ments ;  yet  the  Omniscient  knows  that  we  want  to  know 
how  to  give  good  gifts  to  our  children.  May  his  unerring 
wisdom  teach  us,  and  his  gracious  care  abide  with  us 
and   with   our   children   evermore ! 


NATURE  AND  SPIRIT. 

Romans   viii:    5. 

For  they  that  are  after  the  flesh  do  mind  the  things  of  the  flesh,  but 
they  that  are  after  the  Spirit  the  things  of  the  Spirit. 

Not  only  in  this  verse,  but  in  all  this  portion  of  the 
epistle  to  the  Romans,  the  apostle  states  and  reiterates  the 
contrast,  everywhere  implied  in  his  reasoning,  between  the 
body  and  the  mind ;  between  the  physical  nature  and  the 
spiritual  nature ;  between  the  realm  of  force  and  the 
realm  of  freedom. 

They  who  are  in  Christ  Jesus,  he  says,  walk  not  after 
the  flesh,  but  after  or  in  obedience  to  the  spirit.  "  The  law 
of  the  spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus  hath  made  us  free 
from  the  law  of  sin  and  death."  "The  minding  of  the  flesh 
is  death,  but  the  minding  of  the  spirit  is  life  and  peace." 

Whatever  these  words  may  mean  one  thing  is  clear, 
—  the  apostle  does  teach  a  radical  difference  between  the 
physical  and  the  spiritual  natures  of  man. 

A  theory  which  some  plilosophers  in  these  days  are 
trying  to  popularize,  teaches  that  there  is  no  difference 
between  matter  and  mind ;  that  the  acts  and  operations 
which  we  call  mental  or  spiritual,  and  the  acts  and  opera- 
tions which  we  recognize  as  physical,  are  all  produced  by 


40  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

the  same  forces ;  that  the  phenomena  of  mind  and  the 
phenomena  of  matter  all  belong  to  the  same  substance ; 
that  physiology  and  psychology  treat  of  precisely  the  same 
subject;  that  thought  is  a  process  of  the  same  nature  as 
digestion,  only  a  little  more  subtle  and  refined.  This 
denial  of  the  fundamental  distinction  between  the  physi- 
cal and  the  spiritual  realms,  this  indentification  of  matter 
and  mind,  which  makes  thought  only  a  chemical  function, 
and  conscience  nothing  but  a  hereditary  affection  of  the 
nervous  system,  Paul  does  not  justify.  In  his  philosophy 
nature  and  spirit  are  radically  different  in  substance  and 
in  operation ;  the  law  of  the  one  is  the  exact  antithesis 
of  the   law   of  the    other. 

This  is  the  question  that  I  now  wish  to  consider. 
Which  is  nearer  right,  George  Henry  Lewes,  the  philos- 
opher of  Positivism,  -who  suggests  that  mind  and  matter 
are  only  different  aspects  of  the  same  thing  —  opposite 
sides,  so  to  speak  of  the  same  curve,  —  or  Paul  the  apostle, 
who  insists  that  though  they  are  brought  into  close  relation 
in  the  human  life  they  are  totally  different  things?  This 
may  seem  a  deep  and  difficult  question  ;  but  it  is  surely  a 
question  of  the  utmost  importance  to  every  human  being ; 
a  question  that  must  be  answered  before  we  can  have  any 
clear  or  consistent  views  of  life  here  or  hereafter.  And 
because  it  is  so  important,  I  do  not  believe  that  it  can  be 
beyond  the  understanding  of  people  of  fair  common  sense. 
The  great  things  of  God  are  not  hard  to  comprehend. 

For  our  first  witness  let  us  summon  another  philoso- 
pher. I  read  to  you  the  words  of  Mr.  W.  T.  Harris,  spoken 
some  time  ago  at  the  school  of  philosophy  at  Concord  : 

"  The  world  of  nature,  to  which  man  is  enslaved  by  his 


NATURE    AND    SPIRIT.  J^l 

bodily  wants  and  necessities,  is  a  world  of  selfishness  and 
cruelty  and  suffering.  The  means  of  gratification  for  one 
body  are  obtained  and  used  at  the  expense  of  another. 
The  food,  clothing  and  shelter  for  one  body,  being  special 
individual  things,  cannot  serve  in  the  same  time  and  in 
the  same  respect  for  another  body.  The  law  of  natural 
things  is  the  law  of  exclusiveness  and  selfishness  ;  when 
one  person  gets  them  all  others  are  deprived." 

"  The  law  of  natural  things  is  the  law  of  exclusive- 
ness"—  is  not  that  a  true  statement?  Does  not  every 
natural  thing  that  grows  or  increases,  grow  or  increase  at 
the  expense  of  something  else? 

The  rock  is  made  of  grains  of  sand ;  its  bulk  was 
formed  from  the  sediment  at  the  bottom  of  the  primeval 
oceans.  The  sand  of  the  beach  is  worn  from  the  rocks  of 
the  shore  by  the  action  of  the  waves  ;  it  is  pulverized  rock, 
nothing  else ;  and  by  and  by  its  loose  grains  may  again 
cohere  in  compact  masses.  But  what  the  beach  gains 
the  cliffs  lose ;  what  the  strata  gain  the  sands  lose ; 
the  same  matter  cannot  belong  to  both  at  the  same  time. 

The  corn  grows  out  of  the  earth,  but  only  at  the 
expense  of  the  soil  in  which  it  grows.  Every  particle  of 
matter  that  enters  into  its  tissues  it  has  taken  from  other 
substances.  Perhaps  it  grows  at  the  expense  of  other 
plants,  that  stand  stunted  and  dwarfed  under  its  shadow, 
and  that  cannot  thrive  because  the  corn  has  extracted  the 
nourishing  juices  from  the  soil  and  absorbed  the  warmth  of 
the  sun  ;  but  if  it  does  not  increase  by  robbing  other  plaiits, 
it  must  increase  by  taking  from  the  earth  the  nourishment 
of  its  life.  The  soil  is  impoverished  that  the  corn  may  be 
enriched. 


THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 


Just  SO  the  body  of  the  animal  lives  and  grows  at  the 
expense  of  other  living  things.  Every  particle  of  flesh  or 
bone  that  is  added  to  the  body  of  the  animal  is  taken  from 
some  plant  or  some  other  animal.  By  digestion  and  assim- 
ilation, the  body  takes  to  itself  the  substances  of  other 
organisms ;  only  as  other  living  things  give  up  their 
separate   being   can   the   body   live. 

That  part  of  man  which  is  simply  animal  —  what  Paul 
calls  the  flesh  —  grows,  of  course,  by  this  law.  Concerning 
this  there  is  no  dispute.  All  the  philosophers  and  natu- 
ralists agree  that  the  material  part  of  man  follows  the  law 
of  all  physical  organisms  ;  that  its  life  is  fed  by  the  sacrifice 
of  other  lives ;  that  man  as  an  animal  is  one  of  the 
devourers,  living  and  increasing  in  stature  and  in  strength 
only  by  consuming  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  or  the  flesh  of 
the  lower  orders. 

The  law  of  natural  growth  is  the  law  of  all  movement 
or  manifestation  of  physical  power.  Every  force  that  is 
expended  is  borrowed.  If  force  is  communicated  from  one 
body  to  another,  the  one  from  which  it  proceeds  loses  just 
as  much  as  the  other  gains.  If  I  drive  one  croquet  ball 
against  another,  the  force  imparted  to  the  second  one  is  lost 
by  the  first  one.  The  wheels  of  the  clock  move  round  with 
a  certain  power,  but  the  power  with  which  they  move  is 
imparted  to  them  by  the  uncoiling  spring  or  the  descending 
weight,  and  all  the  force  that  is  in  the  wheels  comes  out  of 
the  spring  or  the  weight. 

The  fire  burns  the  wood  and  the  heat  thus  produced 
contains  a  certain  amount  of  energy ;  but  it  is  only  as  the 
wood  gives  up  the  heat  that  was  latent  in  it  that  the  fire 
burns ;  it  is  only  in  miracles  that  the  burning  wood  is  not 


NATURE    AND    SPIRIT.  JfS 

consumed.  The  oxygen  of  the  air  and  the  carbon  of  the 
wood  unite  to  produce  the  flame ;  and  whatever  force  is  in 
the  flame  existed  before  the  fire  was  kindled  in  the  air  and 
in  the  wood. 

The  great  physical  law  which  the  philosophers  call 
the  law  of  the  correlation  of  forces,  or  the  conservation  of 
energy,  governs  all  these  changes  in  physical  objects.  That 
law,  as  Professor  Clerk  Maxwell  states  it,  is  in  these 
words  : 

"  The  total  energy  of  any  body  or  system  of  bodies  is  a 
quantity  which  can  neither  be  increased  nor  diminished  by 
any  mutual  action  of  those  bodies,  though  it  may  be  trans- 
formed into  any  one  of  the  forms  of  which  energy  is 
susceptible." 

Motion,  for  example,  can  be  converted  into  heat,  and 
heat  into  electricity,  and  electricity  into  chemical  affinity ; 
but  the  force  is  neither  increased  nor  diminished  in  these 
changes.  Every  steam  engine  is  an  example  of  the  conver- 
sion of  heat  into  motion ;  every  hot  axle  is  an  instance  of 
the  conversion  of  motion  into  heat ;  every  machine  belt 
from  which  the  spark  flies  to  the  knuckle  shows  heat 
converted  into  electricity ;  every  building  set  on  fire  by 
lightning  shows  electricity  converted  into  heat.  The  theory 
is  that  in  these  changes  no  force  is  gained  or  lost ;  that 
what  is  lost  by,  one  form  is  gained  by  another ;  that  force 
passes  from  one  body  to  another,  from  one  manifestation  to 
another,  but  that  it  is  only  transmuted,  not  augmented,  not 
annihilated.  The  energy  that  was  just  now  exhibiting 
itself  as  motion,  in  mechanical  work,  has  been  converted 
into  heat  or  electricity ;  but  there  is  no  more  energy  now 
than  there  was  before  and  no  less. 


44  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

Whether,  therefore,  you  consider  the  natural  world  as 
matter  or  as  force,  the  same  law  holds.  No  new  matter  is 
created,  and  none  is  annihilated ;  matter  keeps  changing  its 
forms ;  the  same  atoms  that  last  year  were  lying  as  dust  or 
mould  in  the  lifeless  soil,  are  this  year  taken  up  by  the 
growing  corn,  and  will  next  year  be  incorporated  into  the 
human  body ;  but  there  are  no  more  atoms  at  one  time  than 
at  another ;  what  one  existence  appropriates  other  exist- 
.ences  must  give  up.  Nothing  in  nature  can  increase  its 
bulk  or  its  dominion  without  encroaching  upon  the  sub- 
stance or  the  realm  of  some  other  existence. 

So  no  force  can  be  increased  without  the  conversion  of 
energy  from  some  other  form.  You  can  utilize  force  by 
contrivances  but  you  cannot  increase  any  force  without  bor- 
rowing for  it  energy  that  is  stored  up  in  some  other  form. 
If  you  want  to  make  your  shafting  move  faster  you  must 
avail  yourself  of  the  energy  of  heat  locked  up  for  you  in 
the  coal. 

I  need  not  dwell  any  longer  on  the  illustration  of  this 
law  of  exclusiveness,  which  governs  physical  nature.  The 
law  of  the  transformation  of  energy  is  the  scientific  state- 
ment of  it,  and  those  who  have  small  knowledge  of  science 
are  familiar  enough  with  the  fact  that  in  nature  whatever 
one  creature  gets  all  others  are  deprived  of.  When  we  are 
dealing  with  natural  forces  we  clearly  see  that 

"  The  good  old  rule 

Sufficeth  them,  the  simple  plan, 

That  he  should  get  who  has  the  power 

And  he  should  keep  who  can." 


NATURE    AND    SPIRIT.  J^5 

And  between  the  getters  and  the  keepers  the  contest  is 
deadly,  because  what  one  gets  the  other  cannot  keep.  This, 
as  our  philosopher  affirms,  is  the  law  of   natural  things. 

Now  let  us  ask  him  to  stand  up  again  and  state  to  us 
the  law  of  spiritual  things  : 

"The  law  of  spirit  is  harmony  and  not  mere  conten- 
tion. All  spiritual  struggle  must  have  reconciliation  for  its 
object.  Recognition  is  the  highest  law  of  spirit.  The  equal 
shall  look  in  the  face  of  equal,  and  through  mutual  recog- 
nition each  shall  reinforce  the  other.  Thus  each  is  doubly 
strong  ;  strong  in  himself  and  strong  in  his  friend.  *  *  * 
Combination  is  the  great  principle  of  spirit,  and  its  forms 
are  numerous  in  the  practical  world,  and  in  the  theoretical 
world  as  well." 

This  statement  will  also  be  verified  by  your  experience. 
The  fact  that  recognition  —  or  what  I  would  rather  call 
communion  —  is  the  highest  law  of  spirit,  that  instead  of 
contention  and  exclusiveness,  we  find  harmony  and  co-oper- 
ation ruling  in  this  higher  realm,  is  a  fact  that  everybody 
understands. 

You  and  I  sit  down  hungry  to  a  scanty  meal.  There  is 
barely  enough  for  one.  If  my  needs  are  satisfied  you  get 
nothing ;  if  you  are  filled  I  must  go  hungry ;  if  we  divide 
the  portion  between  us,  each  has  only  half  as  much  as 
he  could  have  were  it  not  for  the  other.  By  all  that  the 
one  takes  the  other's  portion  is  lessened.  You  deprive 
yourself  of  what  you  give  to  me. 

But  you  and  I  sit  down  with  eager  minds  to  talk  about 
some  moral  or  spiritual  truth.  It  is  a  truth  known  to  me  but 
unknown  to  you.  You  are  the  learner  and  I  am  the  teacher, 
and   in   our   conversation,  you   gain   from    me   this   truth. 


Jf.6  '  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

Is  it  mine  any  less  than  it  was  before?  Have  I  deprived 
myself  of  anything  in  imparting  to  you  this  truth?  On  the 
contrary  I  have  gained  by  giving.  I  have  a  stronger  hold 
upon  the  truth  than  I  had  before  I  imparted  it  to  you.  It  is 
mine  in  a  deeper  sense,  by  a  firmer  tenure  than  it  was 
before,  and  it  is  worth  more  to  me  than  it  was  before. 

You  know  that  our  knowledge  is  always  confirmed, 
vivified,  freshened,  by  communicating  it.  What  we  have 
succeeded  in  clearly  telling,  we  have  succeeded  in  compre- 
hending. In  putting  it  into  a  form  in  which  it  may  gain 
entrance  to  other  minds,  we  have  put  it  into  a  form  in 
which  it  will  stay  in  our  own  minds.  Thus  the  imparting 
of  truth  does  not  reduce  but  enlarges  our  store  of  truth.  If 
I  give  a  man  my  coat  I  have  one  coat  the  less ;  but  if  I  give 
a  man  my  thought,  I  have  not  divested  myself  of  the 
thought;  I  have  confirmed  my  possesion  of  it;  it  is  less 
likely  now  that  I  shall  part  with  it.  Not  only  is  the  truth 
which  I  have' communicated  more  truly  mine  than  it  was 
before  I  imparted  it ;  it  is  worth  more  to  me.  I  have  not 
only  a  stronger  hold  upon  it,  I  have  a  greater  joy  in  it. 
You,  to  whom  I  have  imparted  it,  rejoice  in  it ;  and  your 
appreciation  of  it  deepens  mine.  Two  faggots  burn  more 
freely  than  one ;  and  my  enthusiasm  in  the  pursuit  and 
possession  of  this  truth  is  rekindled  when  you  take  fire. 

It  is  not  less  true,  let  me  say  in  passing,  that  truth 
grows  in  the  mind  itself  by  communicating  it.  Not  only 
do  the  mental  powers,  like  the  bodily  powers,  gain  strength 
by  exercising  them ;  there  is  a  kind  of  increase  here  to 
which  the  body  affords  no  analogy.  The  most  productive 
mind  is  the  most  prolific  mind.  Soil  is  impoverished  by 
cropping  it;  but  there  is  no  such  thing  as  exhausting  the 


NATURE    AND    SPIRIT.  Jflf 

mind  in  this  way.  Production  fertilizes  the  intellect.  It  is 
when  the  mind  is  paying  out  its  wealth  most  lavishly  that 
its  revenues  are  largest.  The  days  when  I  am  doing  the 
most  mental  work  are  the  days  when  my  mind  is  fullest  of 
thoughts  ;  when  there  is  the  keenest  delight  in  mental  pro- 
duction ;  when  ideas  come  in  crowds,  like  doves  to  the 
windows  ;  when  subjects  open  on  every  side  and  invite  to 
fuller  investigation.  The  notion  is  sometimes  entertained 
that  the  mind  which  produces  freely  is  liable  to  run  out 
of  ideas ;  but  that  is  a  notion  which  no  mental  worker 
entertains.  It  is  true  that  the  body,  with  which  the  mind 
is  so  closely  related,  may  be  exhausted ;  but  the  mind 
itself  enlarges  its  resources  by  expending  its  resources ; 
is  fertilized  by  its  own  harvests. 

Other  spiritual  gifts  besides  knowledge  follow  in  their 
growth  the  same  law.  Hope  is  increased  by  imparting  it. 
If  I  have  strong  confidence  in  the  success  of  any  enter- 
prise, and  if  I  succeed  in  inspiring  others  with  my  confi- 
dence, it  is  not  at  any  expense  to  my  own  expectation.  It 
is  not  true  that  I  become  less  sanguine  as  they  become 
more  sanguine.  On  the  contrary  the  assurance  that  they 
feel  reacts  upon  me  and  strengthens  my  assurance.  Every 
one  knows  that  a  hopeful  temper  is  contagious ;  and  as 
other  spirits  catch  the  contagion  the  one  from  whom  it  goes 
forth  does  not  lose  heart,  but  feels  his  own  confidence 
increasing. 

The  same  thing  is  true  of  courage.  A  brave  man 
inspires  others  to  heroism,  but  his  own  courage  is  not 
diminished  when  it  enters  into  other  souls ;  it  is  stimu- 
lated  and  invigorated. 

The  same  thing  is  true  of  the  one  central  element  of 


48  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

the  spiritual  life,  love — the  love  that  is  the  fulfilling  of  the 
law.  Your  power  to  love  is  not  diminished  by  loving,  any 
more  than  your  power  to  know  is  diminished  by  knowing. 
The  good-will  and  kindness  that  is  in  you  begets  good  will 
and  kindness  in  all  with  whom  you  have  to  do,  but  your 
own  store  of  affection  is  not  lessened,  it  is  increased  when 
you  thus  dispense  it.  You  go  out  in  the  morning,  and, 
following  the  example  of  Him  whose  name  is  love,  you 
endeavor  throughout  the  day  to  do  good  to  all  as  you  have 
opportunity ;  you  cheer  the  hopeless,  you  help  the  helpless, 
you  feed  the  hungry,  you  bear  the  burdens  of  the  sorrowful ; 
by  gracious  words  and  considerate  silence,  by  brave  resist- 
ance of  wrong  in  public  places,  and  by  secret  ministries  in 
which  the  left  hand  knows  not  the  right  hand's  doings,  you 
seek  to  serve  and  hearten  and  bless  your  fellow  men ;  and 
when  you  come  home  at  eventide  it  is  written  of  you  in  that 
book  where  the  good  deeds  are  all  recorded,  that  some  heavy 
hearts  are  lightened  ;  that  some  paths  are  smoother  for 
weary  feet;  that  some  spirits  encased  in  sullen  hate  and 
suspicion  have  opened  just  a  little  to  let  love  in  ;  that  the 
flowers  that  always  spring  where  the  beautiful  feet  of  God's 
messengers  have  fallen  are  blossoming  along  the  way  that 
you  have  trod ;  and  now,  having  given  forth  so  much  as 
this  of  love  to  those  who  needed  love,  are  you  any  poorer 
than  you  were  in  the  morning?  Is  your  store  of  affection 
diminished?  Have  you  any  less  capacity  for  loving?  Are 
your  sympathies  narrower  or  your  impulses  of  service 
weaker?  Oh  no;  this  power  like  all  the  other  spiritual 
powers  is  replenished  not  wasted  by  using  it;  this  endow- 
ment of  a  loving  nature,  like  every  other  spiritual  endow- 
ment multiplies  as  you  share  it  with  your  fellow-men. 


NATURE    AND    SPTRTT.  ■  49 

We  say  sometimes  in  our  prayers  that  God  is  not 
impoverished  by  giving  nor  enriched  *by  witholding.  That 
is  true  of  Him  because  He  is  a  Spirit,  and  because  the  law 
of  his  nature  and  of  his  action  is  a  spiritual  law.  But  man 
is  a  spirit  also ;  and  the  saying  is  therefore  true  of  man,  as 
it  is  of  his  Maker.  By  giving  man  is  not  impoverished, — by 
giving  spiritual  gifts ;  by  giving  that  which  is  the  substance 
of  his  manhood.  A  man's  temporal  possessions  may  some- 
times be  diminished  by  bestowing  them,  but  the  man's  true 
self  is  not  depleted,  it  is  enlarged  by  every  energy  that  goes 
forth  from  it,  by  every  bounty  that  it  dispenses.  "  There  is 
that  scattereth  and  [thus]  increaseth  "  is  the  primal  law  of 
the  spiritual  life. 

Have  we  not  verified  the  doctrine  taught  by  the  Con- 
cord philosopher?  And  in  doing  so  have  we  not  found  the 
strongest  reason  for  believing  with  Paul  that  there  is  a 
radical  difference  between  the  physical  world  and  the 
spiritual  world  ?  Is  not  the  law  of  the  natural  life  and 
growth  the  law  of  exclusiveness?  Is  not  the  law  of  spir- 
itual life  and  growth  the  law  of  recognition  or  communion? 
Is  not  the  law  of  the  members  thus  the  exact  antithesis  of 
the  law  of  the  mind?  '  Do  not  the  body  of  man  and  the 
spirit  of  man  belong  to  different  kingdoms?  Is  there  not  a 
higher  nature  in  man  which  is  not  subject  to  the  law  of  the 
conservation  of  energy  and  of  which  physical  science  knows 
absolutely  nothing?  And  is  there  not,  therefore,  reason  for 
believing  that  the  death  of  the  body  which  is  under  physical 
law  is  not  the  death  of  the  higher  nature,  which  is  n6t 
under  physical  law ;  that  the  spirit  of  man  may  continue 
to  exist  after  the  bod}'  has  ceased  to  exist? 

Man  is  not  wholly  mortal,   but   neither  is  he  wholly 


50  ■  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

immortal.  He  is  flesh  as  well  as  spirit.  He  has  interests, 
activities,  pursuits  that  bind  him  to  the  lower  realm.  He 
must,  sometimes,  mind  the  things  of  the  flesh.  None  of 
us  is  a  disembodied  spirit,  and  it  is  needful  for  us  to 
supply  the  wants  of  our  lower  natures  as  well  as  of  the 
higher.  But  it  is  the  higher  nature  that  makes  a  man  a 
man ;  the  lower  nature  he  shares  with  the  other  animals. 
And  the  crucial  inquiry  respecting  every  man  is  :  In  which 
of  these  realms  of  life  does  he  chiefly  live?  Is  his  ruling 
love  given  to  the  things  of  the  flesh  or  to  the  things  of  the 
spirit?  If  the  former  is  true  of  him,  then  the  law  of  his 
nature  is  the  law  of  the  lower  realm  —  the  law  of  competi- 
tion and  conflict,  the  law  of  exclusiveness  and  warfare.  The 
things  on  which  his  heart  is  chiefly  set  are  things  which  he 
can  only  have  by  depriving  his  fellows.  By  as  much  as  he 
is  enriched  the  rest  of  the  world  is  impoverished.  The  very 
condition  of  his  life  is  warfare,  and  the  warfare  into  which 
his  ruling  choice  enlists  him  is  fierce  and  fatal ;  sooner 
or  later  the  devourers  themselves  must  be  devoured.  The 
minding  of  the  flesh  is  death. 

It  is  a  sad  and  bitter  life  that  any  man  leads  who  sets 
his  chief  affections  on  the  possessions  and  goods  of  the 
material  world  ;  on  things  that  can  be  bought  with  money. 
Because  he  is  a  spiritual  being  his  ruling  choice  ought  to 
take  a  higher  range  than  this.  The  things  that  are  really 
highest  in  his  experience,  that  belong  to  him  as  a  man,  that 
distinguish  him  from  the  beasts,  are  the  things  whose  law  is 
not  exclusiveness,  but  communion.  The  gains  that  are 
most  precious  to  him  are  those  that  fall  to  him  while  he  is 
enriching  others.  All  the  highest  good  of  life  is  good  for 
which  there  can  be  no  competition  ;  the  real  wealth  of  man 


NATURE    AND    SPIRIT.  51 

is  wealth  that  cannot  be  monopolized.     There  never  can  be 
a  corner  in  the  market  in  which  he  gets  his  highest  gains. 

It  is  quite  possible  for  man  to  carry  this  spiritual  force 
that  is  in  him  down  into  the  lower  realm,  there  to  subjugate 
the  devourers.  It  is  possible  to  substitute  the  principle  of 
communion  and  combination  for  the  principle  of  competi- 
tion in  the  getting  and  the  using  of  material  things.  That, 
indeed,  is  the  very  law  of  progress  in  civilization.  The  race 
goes  on  and  up  from  that  which  is  lower  to  that  which  is 
higher  by  competing  less  and  combining  more.  And  the 
thousand  wars  of  old  will  never  cease,  and  the  thousand 
years  of  peace  will  never  come,  till  men  stop  putting  their 
trust  in  the  methods  of  competition  and  begin  to  build  the 
whole  fabric  of  their  industrial  and  social  life  on  the  prin- 
ciple of  co-operation  —  till  they  walk  no  longer  after  the 
flesh  but  after  the  spirit. 

That  day  is  yet  a  long  way  off.  It  will  not  be  hastened 
by  disputing  or  by  fighting,  or  even  by  legislating,  any 
more  than  the  growing  of  the  grass  in  the  spring  will  be 
hastened  by  firing  cannon  over  your  lawn  or  marching 
troops  across  it,  or  making  speeches  to  it.  But  you  and  I, 
in  our  time,  can  have  something  of  the  light  and  glory  of  it 
in  our  homes  and  in  our  lives,  if  we  will  only  treasure  the- 
truth  we  have  found  to-day.  0  what  gains  there  are  for 
us  in  these  divine  pursuits  and  services  —  gains  by  which 
no  mortal  loses  —  gains  by  which  we  may  enrich  instead  of 
despoiling  our  fellows  ! 

The  quickening  and  inspiring  truths  that  God  gives  us, 
how  full  of  life  and  power  they  will  become  as  we  impart 
them  unto  others  !  The  hopes  that  lift  our  hearts  and  spur 
our  footsteps,  how  they  will  grow   within   us,  as  we  lead 


52  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

others  to  partake  of  them  !  The  joy  that  brightens  our 
lives,  how  much  keener  it  will  become  when  other  faces 
beam  with  it?  The  love  that  is  shed  abroad  in  our  hearts 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord,  oh,  how  its  sacred  flame  will 
glow  and  mount  when  we  see  it  shining  out  of  the  eyes 
of  our  fellow-men  and  sanctifying  their  lives  ! 

"  I  said  it  in  the  meadow  path, — 

I  say  it  on  the  mountain  stairs;  — 
The  best  things  any  mortal  hath 

Are  those  which  every  mortal  shares. 

"  The  air  we  breathe,  the  sky,  the  breeze, 
The  light  without  us  and  within. 
Life,  with  its  unlocked  treasuries  — 
God's  riches  —  are  for  all  to  win. 

"  The  grass  is  softer  to  my  tread 

For  rest  it  yields  unnumbered  feet; 
Sweeter  to  me  the  wild  rose  red 

Because  she  makes  the  whole  world  sweet. 

"  Into  your  heavenly  loneliness 

Ye  welcomed  me,  O  solemn  peaks ! 
And  me  in  every  guest  you  bless 

Who  reverently  your  mystery  seeks. 

"  And  up  the  radiant  peopled  way 

That  opens  into  worlds  unknown, 
It  will  be  life's  delight  to  say, 

'  Heaven  is  not  heaven  for  me  alone.' 

"  Rich  through  my  brethren's  poverty? 

Such  wealth  were  hideous !    I  am  blest 
Only  in  what  they  share  with  me. 
In  what  I  share  with  all  the  rest. 


THE    GREAT   VOICE    FROM    HEAVEN. 

Revelations   xi:    12. 

•^  And    they    heard    a    great    voice  from    heaven,  saying    unto    them, 
Come    up    hither.'*'   /\\a^       X  /  t    ^  "^ 

The  fact  that  the  Scriptures  are  addressed  to  the  imagi- 
nation and  feeling  quite  as  much  as  to  the  logical  faculty,  is 
a  fact  now  beginning  to  be  more  clearly  apprehended  than 
formerly ;  and  the  discovery  is  the  source  of  the  most  fruit- 
ful developments  in  religious  thought.  There  is  no  need 
of  denying  that  there  may  be  exact  and  scientific  statements 
of  truth  in  both  the  Testaments  ;  but  it  does  need  to  be 
affirmed  that  feeling  is  oftener  addressed  than  intellect;  and 
that  the  terms  in  which  truth  is  conveyed  are  more  usually 
terms  of  figure  or  symbolism.  This  poetic  use  of  language 
becomes  more  and  more  apparent  the  longer  we  study  the 
sacred  Word.  Metaphors  are  discovered  not  only  in  the 
nouns  and  verbs  —  the  substantive  words  of  the  language 
—  but  even  in  the  particles  of  speech  by  which  these  more 
important  words  are  bound  together.  Take,  for  an  example, 
the  preposition  up  contained  in  the  text ;  this  is  a  metaphor, 
and  as  such  is  full  of  rich  meaning;  but  it  has  been  ac- 
cepted in  days  past  as  a  literal  expression  of   truth,  and 


5^  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

has  given  a  dogmatic  direction  to  the  theories  men  have 
believed  about  the  heavenly  world.  The  great  voice  from 
heaven  said,  "Come  up  hither!"  And  by  giving  to  the 
word  up  its  natural  or  physical  signification,  the  popular 
idea  grew  that  heaven  was  somewhere  in  the  sky  or  above 
the  sky.  That  conception  might  have  answered  well 
enough  under  the  Ptolemaic  cosmography ;  but  when  Co- 
pernicus came,  it  was  speedily  upset.  As  soon  as  it  was 
known  that  the  world  is  a  sphere,  and  turns  on  its  axis 
once  a  day,  it  became  evident  enough  that  any  literal 
interpretation  of  the  word  would  involve  us  in  absurdity. 
Up  is  one  direction  now,  and  twelve  hours  from  now  it  will 
be  in  the  opposite  direction.  Every  moment  the  zenith 
changes ;  and  the  course  that  is  upward  to  us  is  downward 
to  our  antipodes. 

Yet  you  know  how  sturdily  men  stood  up  in  the  early 
times  for  the  literal  sense  of  this  word,  and  of  words  akin 
to  it.  When  the  astronomers  began  to  teach  the  heliocen- 
tric doctrines,  men  were  angry  and  amazed.  Science  was 
determined  to  overthrow  the  Bible,  they  said  ;  if  you  allowed 
these  new  fangled  notions  of  astronomy,  you  made  nonsense 
of  the  Bible.  Science  was  the  foe  of  religion  ;  the  men  who 
could  teach  such  theories  must  be  plotting  to  undermine 
faith ;  their  motives  could  only  be  bad ;  they  nmst  be  dealt 
with  sharply,  lest  their  infidel  notions  spread.  All  this  dis- 
tress arose  from  a  failure  to  recognize  the  truth  that  the 
preposition  up,  and  all  the  other  words  of  space  applied  to 
the  relation  between  heaven  and  earth  are  used  poetically, 
and  not  scientifically ;  that  propositions .  and  adverbs,  as 
well  as  other  words,  may  sometimes  be  figures  of  speech. 

Not  a  little  of  the  fierce  controversy  that  has  wasted 


THE    GREAT    VOICE    FROM    HEAVEN.  61 

tion,  imaginings  about  it.  We  shall  picture  it  to  ourselves 
now  and  then  ;  we  shall  take  all  our  best  ideals  of  beauty, 
and  comfort  and  blessedness,  and  combine  them  in  our 
thoughts  to  make  up  our  ideal  of  heaven.  The  Bible 
piques  our  imagination  with  hints  and  suggestions  and 
parables  and  pictures,  and  then  leaves  us,  each  for  himself, 
to  complete  the  representation.  If  we  begin  to  turn  our 
fancies  into  dogmas,  and  to  call  upon  our  neigbors  to  fall 
down  and  worship  the  images  of  heaven  we  have  set  up, 
then  we  do  wrong ;  but  if  we  hold  them  only  as  symbols, 
only  as  the  dim  outshining  of  a  glory  not  yet  revealed,  only 
as  helps  in  conceiving  of  something  better  than  the  eye 
has  ever  seen  or  the  fancy  ever  painted,  then  they  may 
strengthen  our  faith  and  stimulate  our  hope. 

Holding,  then,  both  these  conceptions  of  heaven  in  our 
thought,  let  us  listen  to  the  great  voice  out  of  heaven  saying 
unto  us,  "  Come  up  hither  !  "  I/'/IYIjJ.  yi  \/ <  (^^ 

Heaven  as  a  state  is  not  beyond  the  reach  of  those  who 
dwell  upon  the  earth.  Heaven  came  down  to  earth  when 
Christ  came.  It  had  always  been  coming,  indeed ;  but 
there  was  more  of  it  here  when  he  came  than  ever  before. 
That  which  makes  heaven  —  the  substance  of  that  which 
we  hope  for  —  is  here  already.  The  announcement  of  the 
Saviour's  coming  by  the  Forerunner  —  what  was  it  ?  '"  The 
kingdom  of  heaven  is  at  hand."  So  Christ  himself  to  theo- 
logical speculators  and  curiosity  hunters  gave  warning : 
"  Neither  shall  ye  say,  Lo  here  !  or  lo  there  !  for  behold  the 
kingdom  of  God  is  within  you  !  " 

There  is  an  upper  and  a  lower  realm  of  life  here  in  this 
world.  Some  of  us  live  almost  wholly  in  the  one,  and  some 
almost  wholly  in  the  other,  and  many  vibrate  between  the 


THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 


two.  The  boundary  between  them  is  a  line  invisible  to 
mortal  sight,  but  the  two  worlds  are  to  the  eye  of  God  as 
distinct  as  night  and  day. 

The  Mammoth  Cave  in  Kentucky  is  a  little  world  by 
itself.  All  its  phenomena,  all  its  forms  of  life  differ 
strangely  from  those  which  appear  on  the  surface  a  little 
way  above.  Darkness  and  not  light  is  lord  of  its  cheerless 
solitudes ;  from  the  fretted  arches  of  its  roof  hang  weird 
fantastic  forms  of  rock  fashioned  by  the  drip  of  centuries  ] 
no  flowers  bloom,  no  herbage  rustles  within  its  dismal 
grottoes,  but  mocking  shapes  of  stone  spring  up,  tree-like,  in 
its  lifeless  gardens ;  its  rivers  roll  with  sullen  flood  through 
cavernous  labyrinths,  and  fall  with  dreadful  reverbera- 
tion into  fathomless  abysses  ;  the  fish  that  inhabit  them  — 
the  only  living  creatures  in  the  cave  —  are  e3^eless  monsters 
that  have  no  need  of  the  sun.  Contrast  with  this  dismal 
grandeur,  this  clammy  breath,  this  lifeless  silence,  the  free 
glad  life  of  the  fields  and  the  forests  above,  lit  by  the  sun- 
shine, decorated  by  ten  thousand  shapes  and  hues  of  green 
things  growing,  vocal  with  winds  and  birds,  and  lowing 
kine  and  the  sweet  music  of  human  speech,  and  you  have 
some  faint  symbol  of  the  difference  there  is  between  the 
nether  life  of  flesh  and  sense,  and  the  upper  life  of  heavenly 
inspiration,  both  of  which  are  open  to  you  and  me,  now 
and  here. 

There  is  a  life  that  springs  from  the  earth  and  that 
clings  to  the  earth  ;  a  life  whose  central  motive  is  appetite 
or  passion,  or  some  form  of  selfishness  a  little  more  refined  ; 
a  life  that  is  ruled  by  material  ideas  and  forces ;  a  life 
whose  maxims  and  methods  are  all  earthly  and  sordid.  To 
get  a  living ;  to  get  money ;  to  get  sensual  gratification  in 


THE    GREAT    VOICE    FROM    HEAVEN.  63 

one  form  or  another  :  to  get  fame  and  power  and  patronage ; 
to  get  from  my  children  or  dependents  the  homage  of  a 
slavish  fear  ;  to  get  all  my  whims  gratified,  and  my  self-hood 
ministered  unto  by  all  around  me ;  to  get  as  much  as  pos- 
sible for  myself,  and  to  give  sparingly  whether  of  money  or 
favor  unless  I  can  clearly  see  that  it  is  coming  back  to  me 
with  usury  —  this  is  the  principle  of  the  lower  life.  Some- 
times animalism  predominates  in  it,  sometimes  a?stheticism, 
sometimes  ambition,  sometimes  tyranny ;  all  the  same  it  is 
the  exaltation  of  the  lower  parts  of  our  nature ;  it  is  the  life 
whose  ruling  motive  is  from  below  and  not  from  above. 

There  is  another  life  that  has  its  inspiration  in  heaven, 
and  that  lifts  us  up  toward  heaven  ;  a  life  whose  central 
motive  is  love ;  whose  source  is  the  indwelling  of  God's 
spirit  in  the  soul ;  whose  streams  are  fed  by  constant  com- 
munion with  Him  who  is  the  light  and  life  of  men ;  a  life 
that  enthrones  the  nobler  faculties  and  makes  the  grosser 
nature  serve  the  higher ;  that  holds  the  appetites  in  check, 
and  subordinates  material  things  to  spiritual ;  a  life  whose 
joy  is  found  in  giving  rather  than  in  getting,  in  ministering 
rather  than  in  being  ministered  unto,  in  serving  more  than 
in  ruling :  a  life  upon  which  all  men  enter  when  they  are 
born  from  above  —  when  "the  power  of  an  endless  life"  that 
made  Christ  the  Saviour  of  men  comes  down  upon  them 
and  takes  possession  of  them. 

These  two  realms  of  experience  —  the  upper  and  the 
lower — lie  close  together,  and  both  of  them  invite  us  by 
motives  of  their  own.  There  is  that  in  us  which  responds  to 
the  solicitations  of  the  realm  of  sense,  and  there  is  that 
in  us  which  answers  to  the  call  from  the  spiritual  realm. 
Unhappily  many  of  us,  I  fear,  spend  most  of  our  days  down 


64  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

below.  Our  affections  are  set  on  things  on  the  earth,  rather 
than  on  the  things  above.  Now  and  then  we  make  an 
excursion  into  the  heavenly  realm,  but  we  do  not  stay  there 
long ;  the  serene  peace  which  is  the  portion  of  those  who 
take  up  their  abode  there  we  do  not  know  much  about. 

Yet  we  are  perfectly  certain  that  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  living  there.  We  know  some  who,  while  in  this  world, 
are  plainly  not  of  this  world ;  whose  "  conversation,"  as 
Paul  said,  "is  in  heaven."  The  fragrance  of  Paradise  is 
in  their  garments ;  the  light  of  a  new  and  better  hope  is  in 
their  eyes ;  their  voices  are  musical  with  the  accents  of 
heavenly  love.  A  great  multitude  of  these  saintly  souls  —  a 
multitude  that  no  man  can  number — ^have  walked  with 
God  upon  the  earth ;  are  walking  here  even  now.  In  our 
streets  we  meet  them  every  day ;  our  homes  are  cheered  by 
their  steady  patience,  their  unswerving  fidelity,  their  un- 
sparing sacrifices.  Our  eyes  brim  with  grateful  tears  when 
we  think  of  them  —  of  the  good  they  are  doing  us ;  of  the 
revelation  which  God  has  made  of  his  own  love  through 
them  to  us ;  of  the  call  to  nobler  living  to  which  their  lives 
give  voice. 

Nay  it  is  not  you  who  profess  sanctification  of  whom  I 
am  speaking  —  not  you  who  brag  of  your  attainments  in 
grace,  and  tell  us  the  month  and  the  day  on  which  you 
ceased  from  sinning ;  you  who  know  that  you  are  saints  are 
apt  to  have  a  monopoly  of  that  knowledge ;  nobody  else 
would  suspect  it  if  you  did  hot  advertise  it.  It  is  not  from 
your  .lives  that  this  mighty  influence  comes  that  lifts  us  up 
toward  the  heavenly  state ;  but  from  those  who  in  humbler 
ways  are  just  bearing  their  burdens  patiently  and  doing 
their  duties  faithfully  ;    leaving  with  meekness  their  ^ins  to 


THE    GREAT    VOICE    FROM    HEAVEN.  65 

the  Saviour  and  hardly  daring  to  claim  a  place  among  the 
least  of  his  diciples.  Your  thoughts  go  at  once  to  some 
whom  you  know,  who  have  many  misgivings  as  to  their 
right  to  be  numbered  among  the  children  of  God,  for  whose 
beautiful  lives  their  neighbors  are  giving  thanks  daily. 

From  the  realm  in  which  these  gentle  and  noble  souls 
are  walking  —  the  heaven  of  peace  and  truth  and  love  in 
which  they  abide  even  here  in  the  flesh  —  a  great  voice  is 
heard  saying,  "Come  up  hither!"  Do  you  never  hear  it? 
In  the  pauses  of  your  daily  toil,  in  the  intervals  of  silence 
that  sometimes  divide  the  strife  of  tongues  and  the  clamor 
of  passions,  does  not  this  great  voice  —  this  commanding 
voice  —  come  sounding  down  to  you  from  the  better  world 
above,  summoning  you  to  a  nobler  life  than  you  are  living 
now?  It  is  not  alone  to  you  who  are  outside  the  church 
that  this  call  is  spoken ;  it  is  spoken  to  all  of  us  who 
are  conscious  of  sordid  aims  and  grovelling  tendencies ; 
it  is  spoken  to  every  one  who  is  conscious  that  the  law 
in  the  members  still  often  prevails  over  the  law  in  the 
mind. 

And  what  a  mighty  voice  it  is !  The  power  and 
majesty  of  Him  who  said,  "Let  there  be  light;"  the  lov- 
ing tenderness  of  Him  who  called  to  the  tired  multitudes 
saying,  "Come  unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy 
laden  and  I  will  give  you  rest ; "  the  pleading  pity  of  Him 
who  on  the  cross  prayed,  saying,  "  Father,  forgive  them,  for 
they  know  not  what  they  do  ! "  are  mingled  in  its  moving 
cadences.  It  is  the  voice  of  God,  speaking  in  the  strength 
and.  beauty  of  this  wonderful  universe,  in  the  solemn  invi- 
tations of  His  word,  in  the  life  and  death  of  His  Son  our 
Saviour  Jeirus  Christ,  in  the  silent  drawings  of  His  spirit  in 


66  THINGS-  NEW    AND    OLD. 

our  hearts,  in  the  faithful  lives  of  all  His  true  children,  in 
all  that  we  know  or  that  the  world  has  known  of  unselfish 
love,  of  unspotted  purity,  of  unfailing  truth,  and  calling  us 
up  out  of  the  mire  of  earthliness  and  passion,  out  of  the 
entanglements  of  frivolity,  to  the  life  of  trust  and  peace 
and  joy  in  Him  !  If  any  man  hath  ears  to  hear  let  him 
hear ! 

But  heaven  is  a  place,  we  said  —  more  than  one  place, 
indeed.  "In  my  Father's  house  are  many  mansions,"  said 
our  Saviour.  The  realms  of  the  blest  are  no  narrow  region. 
Bounded  they  are,  doubtless,  and  must  be  if  finite  beings 
inhabit  them,  but  there  is  room  enough  and  range  enough 
to  satisfy  the  most  eager  and  venturesome  spirit.  And 
from  these  many  mansions  of  the  Father's  house,  where  the 
redeemed  are  dwelling  now,  a  great  voice  is  heard  saying  to 
us,  "  Come  up  hither  !  " 

It  is  the  voice  of  many  waters ;  it  is  the  voice  of  a 
great  multitude ;  it  is  the  voice  of  harpers  harping  with 
their  harps.  We  do  not  always  hear  it ;  but,  now  and  then, 
when  we  stand  beside  some  open  grave,  or  when  at  the 
Sabbath  twilight  hour  vanished  faces  return,  and  the  old 
loves  are  rekindled,  and  on  the  flowing  tide  of  memory  the 
old  sorrows  are  borne  in  again  upon  our  souls,  the  gates  are 
set  ajar  for  a  moment,  and  "down  heaven's  stairs  of  stars" 
this  melody  of  the  heavenly  host  comes  stealing  u])on  our 
hearts  with  a  most  entracing  sweetness.  It  is  the  song  of 
a  great  multitude,  but,  blending  with  the  chorus,  there  are 
voices  that  are  very  familiar  to  our  ears ;  the  low  caressing 
tone  of  the  mother  whose  lullaby  was  the  first  music  we 
ever  heard ;  the  ringing  accents  of  the  brother  who  walked 
with  us  up  the  difficult  road    to  manhood,  and   then  sud- 


THE    GREAT     VOICE    FROM    HEAVEN.  67 

denly  was  not,  for  God  took  him ;  the  bird  like  notes  of  the 
little  voice  that  hardly  framed  itself  to  human  speech 
before  it  joined  in  the  song  of  the  angels  —  all  these  we 
hear  —  oh  so  clearl}'  now  and  then!  —  all  the  harps  of  all 
the  seraphim  can  never  drown  their  melody  ;  and  all  these, 
with  the  Lamb  that  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne,  and  the 
hundred  and  forty  and  four  thousand,  are  saying  to  us, 
"Come  up  hither?" 

Surely  it  cannot  be  that  a  voice  like  this  —  so  full  of 
majesty,  so  full  of  tenderness  —  should  call  us,  and  keep 
calling,  and  still  forever  call  in  vain ! 


THE  CENTRAL  DOCTRINE  OF  PROTESTANTISM. 

EpHESIANS     I:     6. 

"  He  hath  made  us  accepted  in  the  Beloved." 

I  wish  to  learn  as  much  as  I  can  about  water :  who  will 
instruct  me?  There  is  no  lack  of  instructors.  At  once 
they  encompass  me  with  their  treatises  —  big  books  and 
little,  tables,  measurments,  laws,  pour  in  upon  me  in  a 
flood  :  the  hydrographers  whose  business  it  is  to  survey  and 
describe  all  the  surface  waters  of  the  globe ;  the  physicists 
with  their  manuals  of  hydrostatics  and  hydrodynamics; 
the  chemists  with  their  analyses  and  their  formtilae.  And 
there  are  many  curious  and  wonderful  things  in  all  these 
scientific  books  that  treat  of  water.  The  laws  of  specific 
gravity,  of  pressure,  of  flotation,  of  ocean  currents ;  the  * 
laws  of  evaporation  and  condensation,  and  congelation ; 
the  chemical  laws  by  which  water  is  formed  out  of  its 
elements  —  all  these  reward  with  a  solid  satisfaction  the 
student  who  masters  them.  But  after  science  has  told  you 
all  it  knows  about  water,  how  little  you  have  learned  of  the 
power  that  is  in  it,  of  the  beauty  that  clothes  it,  of  the 
ministry  that  employs  it !  Stand  upon  the  cliff  when  the 
surf  is  pounding  at  its  base,  and  the  battle-lines  of  breakers 


70  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

are  charging  ■upon  its  muniments,  and  something  of  the 
majesty  and  might  of  water  will  be  revealed  to  you  that  is 
not  told  in  the  books  that  treat  of  hydrodynamics.  The 
river  rolling  through  the  meadows,  glassing  alder-thicket 
and  wooded  bank-  in  its  perfect  mirror ;  the  lakelet,  hiding 
in  the  forest,  whose  silvery  stillness  is  ruffled  by  the  wing 
of  the  screaming  kingfisher,  or  broken  into  fairy  rings  by 
the  leaping  trout;  the  brook  dancing  down  the  cascade  on 
the  mountain  side,  or  singing  through  the  pastures ;  the 
morning  dew,  glittering  in  myriad  points  of  light  on  ever}^ 
petiole  and  grass  spire ;  the  snow-flakes  and  the  frost- 
traceries  and  the  crystal  architecture  of  the  ice ;  the 
clouds,  overhead,  that  weave  for  themselves  out  of  the 
abounding  light  such  robes  of  marvellous  color  —  all  these 
can  show  us  something  of  the  beauty  that  hides  in  forms 
of  water. 

And  whenever  on  a  sultry  day  of  summer,  or  in  the 
tossing  of  a  fever,  our  thirst  has  been  quenched  by  a 
draught  of  cool  water,  we  have  learned  something  about  its 
value  that  it  would  be  hard  for  any  scientific  man  to  put 
into  a  formula. 

That  part  of  the  function  and  ministry  of  this  great 
*  natural  element  which  science  can  subject  to  its  classifica- 
tions and  laws  is,  then,  much  less  than  the  whole  of  it. 
To  our  sense  of  the  beautiful  and  of  the  sublime,  it  speaks 
in  most  impressive  language ;  it  awakens  within  us  deep 
emotions ;  it  addresses  itself  also  in  a  most  direct  and 
effective  way  to  our  personal  needs.  The  thirsty  child  who 
drinks  of  it,  the  weary  spaniel  that  laves  his  heated  body  in 
its  refreshing  coolness,  gain  a  sense  of  the  good  of  water 
that  the  most  learned  scientist  could  never  convey. 


THE    CENTRAL     DOCTRINE    OF    PROTESTANTISM.  71 

The  disparity  betweeen  the  scientific  account  of  a  thing 
and  tlie  real  nature  and  value  of  it  is  seen  not  only  in  the 
natural  world  but  in  the  moral  world  as  well.  Many  of  the 
highest  human  experiences  have  been  compelled,  in  the 
social  exigencies  of  our  present  state,  to  submit  themselves 
to  some  sort  of  scientific  analysis  and  statement ;  and  it  is 
obvious  enough  that  what  is  left  out  of  such  statements 
is  vastly  more  than  what  is  included.  There  are  law  books, 
for  example,  that  undertake  to  tell  us  the  laws  of  marriage 
and  parentage ;  but  how  much  can  any  one  learn  by 
reading  those  law  books  of  the  real  bond  that  binds 
faithful  hearts  together ;  of  the  sacredness  and  sweetness 
of  the  affection  that  forms  the  foundation  of  the  home. 

Between  theology  and  religion  the  same  disparity 
exists.  The  theological  statement  of  a  religious  truth  often 
comes  as  far  short  of  giving  us  the  real  meaning  of  the 
truth,  as  the  law  books  on  marriage  do  of  giving  us  the  real 
meaning  of  marriage,  or  as  the  scientific  treatises  on  water 
do  of  conveying  to  us  an  adequate  sense  of  the  real  beauty 
and  value  of  water.  Theology  is  a  science,  religion  is  an 
experience ;  and  there  are  many  things  in  our  highest 
human  experiences,  especially  those  that  grow  out  of  our 
relation  to  God,  for  which  it  is  not  possible  to  find  any 
adequate  scientific  statement.  After  theology  has  said  its 
last  and  largest  and  strongest  word  about  them,  more  is 
left  unsaid  than  has  been  spoken. 

The  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith,  the  central  doc- 
trine of  Protestantism  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  is,  as  it  ds 
often  presented,  a  hard,  dry,  formal  statement  of  a  most 
precious  and  inspiring  truth.  The  truth  is  in  its  very 
nature  so  full  of  tenderness,  of  affection,  of  the  most  sacred 


7S  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

and  intimate  experience,  that  it  is  quite  impossible  to  put 
it  into  a  formula. 

Let  us  imagine  some  doctor  of  the  law  going  to  the 
home  of  the  prodigal  after  the  feast  was  over,  taking  the 
father  and  the  son  aside,  and  questioning  them,  note  book 
in  hand  :  "  A  very  remarkable  and  beautiful  reconciliation 
has  taken  place  here,"  he  says  :  "  the  rebel  against  parental 
authority  is  pardoned  :  the  wanderer  has  returned  to  his 
home ;  favor  and  plenty  and  peace  have  been  restored 
to  one  who  has  long  been  deprived  of  them ;  will  you 
not  have  the  goodness  now  to  condense  into  a  statement  not 
more  than  five  or  six  lines  in  length  the  real  nature  of  this 
transaction?"  The  crude  and  stupid  absurdity  of  such  a 
proposition  would  be  evident  enough  to  all  who  have  read 
the  touching  story.  As  if  all  the  regret,  the  gratitude,  the 
hopes,  the  fears,  the  doubts,  the  confidences,  the  anguish, 
the  dread,  the  thankfulness,  the  peace  of  that  deep  human 
experience  could  be  reduced  to  a  logical  definition  !•  And 
yet  men  undertake  to  put  into  concise  theological  propo- 
sitions the  whole  truth  concerning  the  return  of  the  sinner 
to  the  favor  of  God. 

"What  is  justification?"  asks  the  Shorter  Catechism. 
"Justification,"  answers  the  Shorter  Catechism,  "is  an  act 
of  God's  free  grace,  wherein  he  pardoneth  all  our  sins,  and 
accepteth  us  as  righteous  in  his  sight,  only  for  the  right- 
eousness of  Christ  imputed  to  us  and  received  by  faith 
alone." 

That  is  the  scientific  definition  of  justification  by  faith, 
perhaps  as  good  a  definition  as  ever  was  framed.  And 
it  may  help  us  a  little  toward  a  right  understanding  of 
what   justification  is,   just   as  Weisbach's   great  books  on 


THE    CENTRAL    DOCTRINE    OP    PROTESTANTISM.  73 

hydraulics  might  help  us  a  little  toward  understanding  the 
ministry  of  water;  just  as  Bishop's  two  big  volumes  on 
Marriage  and  Divorce  may  throw  some  light  on  the  nature 
of  the  family  relation ;  but  he  who  depends  on  such  a 
formulary  as  this  for  his  knowledge  of  the  way  in  which 
the  sinner  is  restored  by  faith  in  Christ  to  the  favor  of  God, 
must  remain  in  profound  ignorance  of  the  whole  matter. 

"The  righteousness  of  Christ  imputed  to  us,"  is  the 
key  phrase  of  this  definition.  And  the  conception  is  purely 
legal.  We  are  under  condemnation  because  we  have  broken 
the  law.  Christ,  by  his  sufferings,  has  satisfied  the  law. 
Those  who  accept  him  as  their  substitute  are  freed  from  the 
law.  His  sufferings  are  substituted  for  ours  ;  his  righteous- 
ness is  legally  reckoned  as  belonging  to  us,  and  thus  we  go 
free.  "Justification,"  says  Dr.  Hodge,  "is  pronouncing  one 
to  be  just,  and  treating  him  accordingly,  on  the  ground  that 
the  demands  of  the  law  have  been  satisfied  concerning  himJ' 
The  acceptance  of  the  sinner  is  therefore  due  to  a  legal 
transfer  to  Christ  of  the  penalty  of  his  sins,  and  a  legal 
imputation  to  him  of  the  righteousness  of  Christ. 

This  is  the  scientific  account  of  what  is  sometimes 
called  "the  great  transaction."  Theological  science  reduces 
the  tender  history  of  the  sinner's  restoration  to  the  favor  of 
God  to  such  a  statement  as  this.  It  is  plain  that  theological 
science,  like  every  other  sort  of  science,  fails  to  include 
the  deepest  and  best  things  in  human  experience. 

The  words  of  the  text,  which  bear  upon  the  same 
subject,  surely  have  a  different  sound,  and  put  our  thoughts 
upon  a  different  track.  "  He  hath  made  us  accepted  in  the 
Beloved."  This  is  not  so  dry  a  formulary ;  it  does  not 
sound   like   part  of   a  legal  writ  or  rescript;    it  opens  to 


7Jt  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

US  glimpses  of  a  dearer  relation  than  that  of  a  bondsman 
in  court  or  the  endorser  of  a  note.  We  will  not  imagine  that 
we  can  compass  this  whole  truth  in  any  representation  that 
we  are  likely  to  make  of  it ;  but  we  will  try  to  penetrate  the 
phrases  that  have  been  hardened  by  much  disputation,  and 
find  our  way  a  little  nearer  to  the  heart  of  this  great 
matter. 

In  some  way,  it  is  clear,  the  New  Testament  represents 
God  as  accepting  men  through  Christ.  In  some  way  Christ 
is  regarded  by  the  believer  as  his  substitute.  He  is  the 
Mediator  between  God  an  men.  By  faith  in  Him  we  are 
justified.  These  words  meant  something  to  the  men  who 
used  them,  and  they  ought  to  mean  something  to  us.  What 
is  their  meaning? 

They  cannot,  of  course,  describe  any  legal  transfer 
of  moral  qualities.  Moral  qualities  cannot  be  legally  trans- 
ferred from  one  person  to  another.  My  demerits  cannot  be 
lawfully  transferred  to  another,  nor  can  the  merits  of 
another  be  lawfully  transferred  to  me.  My  guilt  is  my 
own,  and  can  by  no  possibility  be  imputed  to  another  being. 
Can  any  one  else  in  the  universe  be  blamed  for  a  sin 
of  mine  in  which  he  had  no  part?  On  the  other  hand  it 
is  equally  impossible  that  1  should  be  regarded  as  entitled 
to  praise  for  a  good  act  performed  by  another  person,  of 
which  I  had  no  knowledge,  and  in  which  I  had  no  part. 
"  Ever}^  one  of  you  shall  give  an  account  for  himself  unto 
God."  The  entire  and  absolute  personality '  of  moral 
qualities,  of  guilt  or  innocence,  of  praise  or  blame,  is  the 
fundamental  truth  of  morality.  Any  legal  interference 
with  this  fundamental  principle  would  be  subversive  of  all 
righteousness. 


THE    CENTRAL    DOCTRINE    OF    PROTESTANTISM.  75 

But  it  is  said  that  though  moral  quality  cannot  be 
transferred,  legal  liability  can  be ;  that  though  Christ 
cannot  be  morally  guilty  on  account  of  our  sins,  God 
regards  Him  as  legally  reponsible  for  them ;  that  though 
His  merits  cannot  be  legally  transferred  to  us,  God  does 
consider  us  as  blameless  before  the  law  on  His  account. 
We  are  justified  because  we  claim  Him  as  our  substitute. 

Now  there  is  under  all  these  phrases  a  great  truth ;  and 
although  the  common  method  of  explaining  it  may  seem  to 
im})Ugn  the  justice  and  even  the  veracity  of  God,  and 
represent  Him  as  consenting  to  a  fictitious  and  evasive 
legal  operation,  yet,  if  we  take  the  whole  subject  out  of 
court  and  strip  it  of  its  legal  phraseology,  we  shall  see  that 
there  is  something  real  and  precious  in  this  act  of  God's 
grace  wherein  he  hath  made  us  accepted  in  the  Beloved. 

Let  nje  tell  you  a  stor}^  that  might  happen,  if  it  never 
did  happen,  in  which  we  may  get  some  hint  of  the  principle 
here  involved. 

John  Goodman  is  a  citizen  of  noble  character  and  of 
large  philanthropy.  He  has  a  son  whom  he  loves  as  the 
apple  of  his  eye,  and  who  is  justifying  his  father's  affection 
by  growing  up  into  blameless  manliness.  One  night  a 
young  desperado,  the  offspring  of  criminals,  whose  life  has 
been  spent  among  the  worst  classes  of  our  cities,  breaks 
into  John  Goodman's  house,  with  the  intent  of  robbery, 
and  nearly  kills  his  son.  The  father  comes  to  the  rescue, 
captures  the  young  burglar,  binds  him  fast,  and  waits  for 
the  morning  to  deliver  him  up  to  justice.  In  the  mean- 
time the  son  revives,  and,  seeing  the  youth  of  the  criminal, 
is  touched  with  pity  for  him,  a  sentiment  that  has  already 
begun  to  kindle  the  father's  heart.     Before  morning  father 


76  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

and  son  have  resolved  to  make  a  great  venture  to  save  this 
wretched  boy  from  his  life  of  crime  and  shame.  They  tell 
him  that  if  he  will  turn  from  his  evil  ways,  he  may  have  a 
home  with  them,  sharing  their  comfort  and  their  plenty; 
that  they  will  protect  him,  so  far  as  they  can,  from  the 
consequences  of  his  past  misdeeds ;  that  they  will  guard 
him  from  bad  influences,  and  open  to  him  paths  of  integrity 
and  honor ;  that  he  shall  be  recognized  as  an  equal  in  the 
family,  and  shall  be  joint  heir  to  the  estate.  All  this  is 
offered  him  by  the  father,  and  urged  upon  him,  even  with 
tears,  by  the  son  whose  life  he  had  attempted.  Of  course  it 
is  very  difficult  for  the  wretch  to  believe  that  these  assur- 
ances are  sincere.  He  thinks  at  first  that  they  are  mocking 
and  taunting  him,  and  his  lips  curl  with  scorn  and  resent- 
ment as  he  listens.  But  by  and  by  he  perceives  that  they 
are  in  earnest,  and  he  is  overwhelmed  by  their  marvellous 
goodness.  He  casts  himself  down  before  them  ;  he  kisses 
their  feet ;  he  tells  them  in  broken  words  the  story  of  his 
gratitude. 

And  he  does  honestly  tr}^  to  live  the  better  life  toward 
which  they  seek  to  lead  him.  It  is  the  deepest  purpose  of 
his  life  to  be  upright  and  faithful  and  pure.  But,  as  any 
one  might  easily  foretell,  this  is  a  purpose  hard  for  such  a 
boy  to  shape  in  act.  He  is  indolent,  and  profane,  and 
reckless  by  habit ;  hiss  mind  is  full  of  gross  and  foul 
thoughts ;  his  temper  is  untamed ;  his  whole  nature  has 
been  warped  and  corrupted  by  his  early  training.  This 
ingrained  evil  finds  expression  in  many  ways.  -  After  a  time 
the  good  man  begins  to  despair  of  ever  making  anything  of 
this  unfortunate  youth ;  he  begins  to  regret  that,  instead  of 
trying   to   reclaim  him,  he   had    not  handed    him  over  to 


THE    CENTRAL    DOCTRINE    OF    PROTESTANTISM.  77 

the  police.  But  while  he  is  thus  wavering  in  his  purpose, 
he  chances  to  enter  the  room  of  his  protege,  and  there  he 
finds  upon  the  table  a  picture  of  his  own  son,  soiled  with 
much  handling,  evidently  left  in  sight  by  accident  —  and 
on  the  back  of  it,  in  the  rude  hand-writing  and  doubtful 
orthography  of  the  waif,  these  words  written  :  "  I  want  to 
be  like  him.  I  pray  God  to  help  me  to  be  nearer  like  him. 
I'm  far  enough  from  it  now,  God  knows ;  but  I  watch  him 
all  the  while,  and  try  to  live  as  good  a  life  as  he  lives.  God 
bless  him  for  all  his  goodness  to  me  !  "  The  father's  eyes 
fill  with  tears,  as  he  reads  these  simple  words.  He  discerns 
in  them  the  deep  purpose  of  the  poor  boy  whose  faulty 
performance  has  so  tried  him.  His  heart  cannot  but  be 
touched  by  the  lad's  choice  of  a  hero.  He  knows  that  the- 
choice  is  a  worthy  one,  and  he  knows  that  the  lad's  love  for 
his  own  son  will  have  in  it  a  regenerating  power.  He  has 
no  more  misgivings  concerning  the  wisdom  of  his  attempt 
'to  save  this  lost  one ;  and  always  after  this  he  couples 
the  lad  in  his  thoughts  with  his  own  son  ;  and  feels  toward 
him  something  of  the  tenderness  with  which  he  regards  his 
own  son.  Since  the  poor  lad  cherishes  for  the  other  this 
passionate  friendship,  since  he  takes  the  father's  pride  as 
his  own  ideal  and  pattern,  how  else  can  the  father  regard 
him?     He  is  accepted  in  the  beloved. 

Now  this  story  does  not  completely  illustrate  the  case 
we  are  considering ;  no  example,  drawn  from  human 
relations,  can  perfectly  set  forth  the  relation  of  God  to  the 
sinner.  Nevertheless  this  parable  may  help  us  to  under- 
stand the  sinner's  acceptance  with  God  through  Christ. 
We  who  were  aforetime  disobedient,  and  alienated  from 
God,  enemies  in  our  minds  by  evil  works,  are  brought  near 


78  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

and  reconciled  by  the  great  love  that  is  shown  us  in  Jesus 
Christ.  But  we  are  still  far  from  perfect  in  word  or  thought 
or  deed.  And  when  we  come  into  God's  presence,  with  all 
our  imperfections  on  our  heads,  how  can  we  speak  to  him? 
what  can  we  say  to  him?  He  looks  on  our  lives,  and  sees 
in  them  innumerable  faults  and  shortcomings ;  what  can  he 
find  in  us  to  approve? 

Perhaps  you  say  that  even  if  there  is  nothing  in  us  to 
approve  God  loves  us,  just  as  a  mother  will  love  her 
wayward  and  dissolute  boy  when  there  is  nothing  lovable 
about  him.  But  the  mother  thinks  there  is  something  good 
in  her  boy  ;  she  finds  something  to  admire  in  his  character ; 
she  sees  good  in  him,  and  ground  of  hope  for  something 
better;  and  it  is  to  this  that  her  love  fastens.  And  I 
suppose  that  it  is  not  possible  for  the  best  human  being  — 
nor  for  the  divine  Being,  in  whose  image  all  the  best  human 
beings  are  made  —  to  love  any  creature  unless  there  is 
something  in  him  to  love.  Man's  love  may  sometimes 
be  blind,  but  God's  love  is  not,  nor  is  it  irrational ;  it  does 
not  delight  in  any  soul  unless  there  is  something  in  that 
soul  that  is  fit  to  be  delighted  in. 

We  say  that  God  loves  sinners,  the  unthankful,  and  the 
evil ;  that  Christ  came  not  to  call  the  righteous  but  sinners 
to  repentance ;  and  all  this  is  true :  but  what  he  loves 
in  sinners  is  not  their  sin;  and  if  there  were  nothing  but 
sin  in  them,  he  could  not  love  them  at  all.  It  is  the 
possibility  of  something  better  that  he  sees  in  them  on 
which  his  love  lays  hold. 

What  is  it,  then,  my  Christian  brother,  that  God  sees  in 
you  when  you  present  yourself  before  him,  on  the  ground 
of  which  he  accepts  you?      What    is    it    that    gives  you 


THE    CENTRAL    DOCTRINE    OF    PROTESTANTISM.  79 

boldness  to  approach  him  with  your  confessions  and  your 
petitions?  It  is  not,  I  am  sure,  any  works  of  righteousness 
that  you  have  done.  For  though  I  would  not  use  any 
exaggerated  language  in  describing  your  character  or  your 
conduct,  I  know  that  you  do  not  feel,  when  you  present  your- 
self before  the  throne  of  the  infinite  Holiness,  that  you  have 
anything  to  boast  of.  You  know,  better  than  any  one  else 
knows,  the  deceitfulness  of  your  own  heart,  the  sin  that 
mingles  with  your  holiest  endeavors. 

But  you  know,  too,  that  you  can  say  this  :  "  I  have 
taken  Jesus  Christ  to  be  my  Master  and  my  pattern.  To  be 
pure  as  he  is  pure ;  to  be  true  as  he  is  true  ;  to  be  brave  and 
patient  and  loving  as  his  life  in  the  flesh  showed  him  to  be 
—  this  is  my  deepest  and  strongest  desire.  God  knows  how 
far  I  have  come  from  attaining  unto  this,  but  he  knows  also 
that  this  is  what  I  mean  to  be.  And  I  trust  that  he  will 
look,  not  on  my  poor  performances,  but  on  this  perfect  ideal 
at  which  I  am  aiming,  and  will  hear  my  prayer  and 
help  me,  not  for  what  I  am  but  for  what  I  wish  and  try  to 
be. 

"  Because  he  knows  that  there  is  in  my  heart,  not  only 
admiration  for  Christ  as  a  pattern,  but  some  measure, 
at  least,  of  love  for  him  as  a  person.  His  boundless  love 
for  all  men,  and  for  me,  has  awakened  in  my  heart  a 
response  of  love  to  him.  I  love  him  far  less  than  I  ought 
to  love  him ;  but  he  knows  that  I  do  love  him.  And  not 
only  because  of  my  desire  to  be  like  the  Son  of  God,  but 
also  because  of  my  gratitude  to  hira  and  my  affection  fot 
him,  I  trust  that  God  will  find  in  me,  in  spite  of  all  my  sins 
and  shortcomings,  something  that  he  can  approve  and 
delight   in.      I    hope   that   though    I   cannot    be   accepted 


80  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

because  of  my  own  merit,  I  may  be  accepted  in  the 
Beloved." 

Thus  it  is  that  Jesus  Christ  becomes  the  believer's 
substitute.  He  is  our  substitute,  not  judicially,  but  ideally ; 
not  because  our  guilt  is  by  any  legal  fiction  transferred  to 
him,  nor  because  his  righteousness  is  by  decree  of  court 
transferred  to  us ;  but  because  Ave  take  him  by  faith  as 
our  representative.  And  whoever  does  honestly  and 
heartily  choose  Jesus  Christ  as  representing  both  to  God 
and  to  himself  the  character  that  he  means  to  form,  the  life 
that  he  means  to  live,  may  know  that  God  accepts  him,  and 
delights  in  him,  and  rejoices  to  help  him.  His  actual 
performance  may  be  very  faulty ;  but  if  this  is  his  ruling 
choice,  he  is  justified  before  God. 

In  the  words  of  another :  *'  He  who,  when  goodness  is 
impressively  put  before  him,  exhibits  an  instinctive  loyalty 
to  it,  starts  forward  to  take  its  side,  trusts  himself  to  it, — 
such  a  man  has  faith,  and  the  root  of  the  matter  is  in  such 
a  man.  He  may  have  habits  of  vice,  but  the  loyal  and 
faithful  instinct  in  him  will  place  him  above  many  that 
practice  virtue.  He  may  be  rude  in  thought  and  character, 
but  he  will  unconsciously  gravitate  toward  what  is  right. 
*  *  *  He  who  cannot  know  what  is  right  can  know  that 
some  one  else  knows ;  he  who  has  no  law,  may  still  have  a 
master ;  he  who  is  incapable  of  justice  may  be  capable 
of  fidelity ;  he  who  understands  little  may  have  his  sins 
forgiven  because  he  loves  much." 

This  is  the  principal  that  underlies  and^  vitalizes  that 
religious  experience  which  we  call  justification  by  faith  in 
Christ.  We  all  allow  that  a  man  must  be  judged  by 
his  deepest  and   most  dominant  choices ;    if  this  deepest 


THE    CENTRAL     DOCTRTNE    OF    PROTESTANTISM.  81 

choice  lays  hold  on  Jesus  Christ,  if  we  can  truly  express  to 
ourselves  the  controlling  aim  of  our  lives  by  saying  that  we 
desire  to  be  like  Christ,  then  God,  who  knows  what  our 
controlling  aim  is,  accepts  us,  though  very  imperfect  in 
character  and  deed.  This  is  what  is  meant  by  being  "in 
Christ."  We  see  in  him  the  character  on  which  our  hearts 
are  set;  our  hopes,  our  aims,  our  aspirations  all  center 
in  what  he  is;  our  life  — the  very  motive-power  of  it  —  the 
organic  and  formative  principle  of  it,— is  hid  with  Christ 
in  God;  we  seek  to  grow  up  into  him,  in  all  things,  which 
is  the  head,  even  Christ.  And  therefore  when  we  stand  in 
the  presence  of  God,  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  our  own 
shortcomings  and  transgressions,  we  can  still  look  upon 
him,  and  say,  "Behold  the  Man!  That  is  the  measure 
of  the  stature  to  which  I  desire  to  grow  ! "  And  we  know 
that  the  Judge  of  all  the  earth,  who  knows  our  hearts, 
accepts  us,  because  this  is  our  profoundest  wish,  and  for- 
gives us  graciously,  and  loves  us  freely. 

But  some  one  will  ask,  "  What  is  the  need  of  a  personal 
representative  to  whom  I  can  point  as  embodying  my 
choice  and  purpose?  Why  can  I  not  as  well  make  known 
to  God  in  my  own  way  my  desire  to  live  a  pure  and  true 
life,  and  why  will  he  not  accept  this  declaration  just  as 
readily  as  he  accepts  my  choice  of  Christ  as  my  representa- 
tive?" 

Well,  my  friend,  the  ideal  that  you  thus  form  and 
cherish  ought  to  be  the  highest  and  most  perfect  ideal  — 
that  is  plain.  You  would  not  venture  to  ask  God  to  accept 
anything  short  of  moral  perfection.  And  do  you  think  you 
can  frame  a  better  ideal  of  mocal  perfection  than  that 
which  is  given  you  in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ?     Can  you 


THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 


heMer  describe  the  man  that  you  want  to  be  than  by  saying, 
"  I  would  be  like  Jesus  Christ? "  If  you  cannot,  then 
the  wisest  choice  for  you  is  to  say  just  that. 

There  is  another  reason  why  it  is  far  better  for  you  to 
take  the  living  Christ  as  the  representative  of  your  life  than 
to  set  up  before  yourself  an  abstract  virtue  and  strive 
to  attain  that.  Love  for  a  person,  ardent  personal  affection 
and  attachment  are  far  better  for  any  man's  soul,  than  mere 
dry  following  of  rules  and  maxims.  "  No  heart  is  pure  that 
is  not  passionate."  No  man  lives  well  who  does  not  love. 
And  in  the  personal  bond  that  binds  you  to  the  living 
Christ  is  the  strongest  of  all  regenerating  influences.  By 
faith  in  him,  by  fellowship  with  him,  you  -become  partaker 
of  his  nature. 

If,  now,  I  knew  some  one  who  by  his  sin  had  become 
alienated  from  God,  who  felt  that  he  could  not  pray, 
because  of  the  haunting  consciousness  of  his  offenses,  and 
who  wanted  to  be  at  peace  with  God,  I  would  say  to  him : 
My  friend,  Jesus  Christ  is  the  way.  Choose  him  for  your 
Master  and  Lord.  Let  him  be  your  Representative,  your 
Mediator  before  God.  Not  by  any  theoretical  or  senti- 
mental preference,  but  with  all  the  energy  of  your  soul, 
commit  yourself  to  him.  Such  a  resolute  choice  as  that 
will  banish  all  the  cold  shadows  of  distrust  and  take  you 
into  the  sunshine  of  God's  favor.  You  will  be  sure  that 
there  is  no  condemnation  for  you  because  you  are  in  Christ 
Jesus.  When  you  identify  yourself  with  him,  you  are  no 
more  a  servant  but  a  son,  and  God  will  send  .the  spirit  of 
his  son  into  your  hearts  crying,  Abba  Father.  You  will 
know  that  you  are  accepted  in  the  beloved. 


THE  PARABLE  OE  THE  CLIMBING   PLANTS. 

Acts  xvii:   27. 

"  That  they  should  seek  God,  if  haply  they  might  feel  after  him,  and 
find  him,  though  he  is  not  far  from  every  one  of  us." 

This  is  part  of  the  speech  of  Paul  on  Mars'  Hill  to  the 
Athenian  philosophers.  He  has  found  among  the  many 
statues  and  idols  with  which  the  streets  and  groves  are 
crowded  an  altar  dedicated  "  To  an  Unknown  God."  This 
inscription  he  takes  for  his  text ;  and  he  tells  the  Athenians 
that  the  outreaching  of  their  faith  toward  a  deity  whom 
they  do  not  know  is  the  best  part  of  their  religion  ;  that 
there  is,  indeed,  as  they  have  darkly  guessed,  a  God  im- 
measurably above  all  the  divinities  whom  in  their  marbles 
and  their  bronzes  they  have  tried  to  symbolize ; —  an 
infinite  i^pirit,  the  Father  not  only  of  the  Olympians  and 
of  the  Greeks,  but  of  all  peoples  and  nations  and  languages 
that  dwell  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  Moreover  that  dim, 
prophetic  vision  of  him  which  finds  voice  in  this  inscrip- 
tion, is  itself  the  response  to  his  call,  for  he  hath  made  all 
men  ''that  they  should  seek  the  Lord,  if  haply  they  might 
feel  after  him  and  find  him,  though  he  is  not  far  from  every 
one  of  us."      This  is   the  purpose  for  which  he  has  made 


8^  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

them.  The  instinct  that  leads  them  to  feel  after  him  is  an 
instinct  with  which  he  has  endowed  them,  and  thus  this 
inscription  to  the  Unknown  God  is  itself  a  witness  to 
the  existence  of  Him  to  whom  it  points,  and  the  fruit  of  a 
germ  planted  by  Him  in  the  human  soul. 

The  phrase  "  to  feel  after,"  is  an  instructive  phrase.  It 
suggests  to  us,  in  the  first  place,  that  our  approaches  to  God 
are  made  largely  by  the  aid  of  our  spiritual  instincts  —  the 
involuntary  movements  of  our  thought.  We  are  impelled 
to  search  for  him  by  our  sense  of  want,  by  our  craving 
for  something  that  we  do  not  possess,  yet  that  we  dimly 
know  must  exist.  By  these  cravings  the  soul  feels  after 
God. 

I  have  lately  found  in  President  Bascom's  treatise  on 
Comparative  Psychology  some  quotations  that  have  greatly 
interested  me  from  Mr.  Darwin's  volume  on  Climbing 
Plants.  The  book  itself  I  have  not  seen  ;  but  these  extracts 
furnish  me  analogies  that  are  instructive.  The  fact  that  all 
life  comes  from  one  Life-giver,  and  that  the  laws  of  the 
natural  world  often  run  parallel  with  the  laws  of  the 
spiritual  world  is  most  beautifully  set  forth  by  these  studies 
of  Mr.  Darwin.  Therefore  I  shall  let  him  preach  to  you 
this  morning ;  that  is  to  say,  the  truth  of  God  as  revealed 
in  nature  and  recorded  by  this  naturalist  shall  be  placed 
before  you,  that  you  may  see  in  it,  as  in  a  glass,  the 
reflection  of  truths  that  deeply  relate  to  your  own  spiritual 
life. 

The  first  peculiarity  of  the  climbing  plant. to  which  the 
author  calls  our  attention  is  "the  slow  revolution,  in  a 
larger  or  smaller  circle,  of  the  upper  extremities  in  search 
of  a  support."     Just  as  soon  as  the  tender  stalk  of  the 


THE    PARABLE    OF    THE    CLIMBING    PLANTS.  85 

plant  begins  to  lift  itself  up  from  the  earth,  the  top  of 
it  begins  to  swing  round,  reaching  out  thus  in  all  directions 
for  something  to  lay  hold  upon  and  cling  to.  The  petioles 
or  leaf  stalks,  the  tendrils,  and  even  the  stem  of  the  plant 
itself  show  a  wonderful  sensitiveness  to  touch,  and  when  in 
their  revolutions  they  are  brought  into  contact  with  some 
firm  object,  they  immediately  begin  to  press  against  it  and 
to  twine  round  it.  The  tendrils  and  the  petioles  are  the 
most  sensitive,  and  they  lay  hold  upon  the  object  that  they 
have  reached  with  a  firm  grasp,  and,  if  the  form  of  the 
object  permit,  carry  the  whole  plant  round  it,  and  bind  it 
fast. 

Thus  it  is  that  the  climbing  plant  feels  after  the  strong 
support  on  which  it  must  depend.  The  plant  knows  that  it 
cannot  stand  alone  ;  it  knows  that  it  must  have  something 
to  cling  to ;  and  it  begins  to  reach  out  after  it  just  as  soon 
as  it  begins  to  grow.  I  say  the  plant  "  knows ; "  and 
though  that  expression  must  not  be  taken  too  literally, 
yet  there  is  in  this  instinctive  search  for  support  something 
so  wonderfully  like  many  of  our  own  instinctive  mental 
operations  that  we  cannot  help  seeing  that  all  kingdoms  of 
life  are  closely  allied.  As  President  Bascom  says  of  these 
phenomena,  "  they  all  show  an  organic  mastery  of  external 
conditions  approaching  that  which  we  find  in  a  more 
complete  form  in  higher  life." 

Do  we  not  witness  in  these  movements  of  the  climbing 
plant  something  closely  analogous  to  the  outreachings  of 
the  human  soul  after  God?  The  soul  knows,  too,  that 
it  cannot  thrive  alone,  that  it  needs  some  Power  stronger 
than  itself  to  cling  to  ;  and  it  always  begins  to  feel  after  it 
if  haply  it  ma}'  find  it.     Blindly,  in  the  dark,  the  minds  of 


86  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

men  grope  after  this  Object  of  their  faith  ;  often  it  is  only  to 
them  the  Great  Unknown, — 

"  That  which  we  dare  invoke  to  bless, 

Our  dearest  faith,  our  ghastliest  doubt, 

He,  They,  One,  All,  within,  without  — 

The  Power  in  darkness  whom  we  guess." 

In  the  jungles  of  Africa,  in  the  ice  fields  of  the  North, 
these  instincts  stir  in  the  hearts  of  men,  and  draw  them 
toward  Him  in  whom  they  live  and  on  whom  they  ought  to 
lean,  and  about  whom  the  tendrils  of  their  affections  ought 
to  cling.  It  is  not  the  heathen  alone  who  have  this 
experience.  You  know  what  it  means,  my  friend,  no 
matter  how  irreligious  your  life  may  have  been  ;  you  know 
that  your  heart  is  often  yearning  for  a  good  you  have 
not  got;  that  the  sense  of  helplessness  and  dependence 
sometimes  takes  strong  hold  of  you  and  forces  from  your 
heart  the  cry  :  "  Oh  that  I  knew  where  I  might  find  Him 
and  lay  hold  upon  His  strength  !  " 

"  On  another  plant,"  says  Mr.  Darwin,  "  three  pairs  of 
tendrils  were  produced  at  the  same  time  by  three  shoots, 
and  all  happened  to  be  differently  directed.  I  placed  the 
pot  in  a  box  open  only  on  one  side  and  obliquely  facing 
the  light ;  in  two  days  all  six  tendrils  pointed  with  unerring 
truth  to  the  darkest  corner  of  the  box,  though  to  do  this 
each  had  to  bend  in  a  differerrt  manner.  Six  turret  vanes 
could  not  have  more  truly  shown  the  direction  of  the  wind 
than  did  these  branched  tendrils  the  course  of  the  streams 
of  light  which  entered  the  box." 

The  reason  of  this  movement  of  the  tendrils  away  from 


THE    PARABLE    OF    THE    CLTMBINO    PLANTS.  87 

the  light  is  not  at  first  apparent,  but  a  little  thought  makes 
it  plain.  The  tendril  is  seeking  an  object  to  cling  to;  in 
the  direction  from  which  the  light  comes  there  cannot 
be  any  object ;  if  an  object  were  there  it  would  obstruct  the 
light;  the  fact  that  the  light  comes  freely  from  that  side 
shows  that  no  object  is  there,  so  the  tendrils  turn  in  the 
other  direction ;  the  shadow  is  the  sign  of  the  presence 
of  an  object  to  which  the  tendril  may  cling;  support  is 
nearest'  on  the  side  where  the  shadow  is.  That  seems 
to  be  the  logic  of  this  movement  of  the  tendril.  What 
wonderful  wisdom  is  here  I 

"  But  the  analogy  "  —  you  are  thinking.  "  How  does 
this  prefigure  our  spiritual  relation  to  God?  God  is  light, 
and  in  him  is  no  darkness  at  all ;  and  we  are  saved  not  by 
turning  away  from  him,  as  the  tendrils  turn  from  the  light, 
but  by  turning  to  him."  All  this  is  true,  in  the  sense 
in  which  it  is  spoken  ;  and  it  may  serve  to  remind  us  that 
analogies,  like  parables,  cannot  always  be  made  to  go  upon 
all  fours.  Nevertheless  there  is  a  deeper  sense  in  which 
this  analogy  does  suggest  to  us  that  spiritual  truth  of 
which  we  are  in  search.  God  is  light,  in  one  most  im- 
portant view  of  his  nature ;  he  is  the  source  of  all  truth 
and  of  all  beauty,  and  of  all  goodness ;  but  it  is  also  true 
that  clouds  and  darkness  are  the  habitation  of  his  throne. 
When  it  is  said  that  in  him  is  no  darkness  at  all,  the 
word  darkness  has  a  moral  signification.  It  is  meant  that 
there  is  in  him  no  deceit,  no  insincerity,  no  malignant 
hatred.  His  character  is  light,  but  there  are  many  things 
about  his  nature  that  are  dark  to  us  and  must  be,  because 
he  is  infinite  and  we  are  finite.  There  are  depths  of  being 
in   him  that  our  thoughts  can  never  fathom.     And   it   is 


88  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

precisely  this  transcendent  greatness  of  his  that  our  trust 
lays  hold  upon.  We  want  a  Power  to  cling  to  who  is  not 
only  greater  than  we  are,  but  whose  greatness  we  cannot 
compass  with  our  thought.  We  want  a  Friend  who  is  able 
to  do  for  us  not  only  the  things  that  we  ask  for  and 
think  of,  but  exceeding  abundantly  above  all  that  we  ask  or 
think.  A  God  whom  we  could  comprehend,  whose  power 
we  could  measure,  we  could  not  fully  trust.  And  so  it 
is  that  our  faith  turns  away  from  the  garish  light  of- human 
wisdom  toward  the  unfathomed  depths  of  Deity. 

"  I  found  Him,  not  in  world  or  sun, 
Or  eagle's  wing  or  insect's  eye, 
Nor  through  the  questions  men  may  try, 
The  petty  cobwebs  we  have  spun. 

"  If  e'er  when  faith  had  faflen  asleep, 

I  heard  a  voice  'Believe  no  more,' 

And  heard  an  ever-breaking  shore 

That  tumbled  in  the  godless  deep,— 

"  A  warmth  within  the  breast  would  melt 
The  freezing  reason's  colder  part ; 
And,  like  a  man  in  wrath,  the  heart 
Stood  up  and  answered,  'I  have  felt.' 

"  No,  like  a  child,  in  doubt  and  fear; 

But  that  blind  clamor  made  me  wise; 
Then  was  I  as  a  child  that  cries. 
And,  crying,  knows  his  father  near. 

"  And  what  I  seem  beheld  again 

What  is,  and  no  man  understands; 
And  out  of  darkness  came  the  hands 
That  reach  through  nature,  moulding  men." 


THE    PARABLE    OF    THE    CLIMBING    PLANTS.  89 

And  thus  our  analogy  finds  some  verification  even  in  this 
curious  movement  of  the  tendrils  away  from  the  light 
and  toward  the  darkness. 

There  is  still  another  point  of  resemblance  here  which 
we  may  think  of  for  a  moment.  The  truth  that  it  gives  us 
may  seem  to  contradict  the  one  we  have  just  seen,  but 
it  does  not  in  reality  ;  it  is  only  the  other  side  of  the  same 
truth.  The  darkness  is  a  symbol  of  God's  infinity,  of  the 
veiling  of  his  nature  from  our  sight.  But  it  is  only,  let  us 
remember,  by  the  help  of  shadows  that  we  see.  Where 
there  is  nothing  but  light  there  is  no  vision.  Look  directly 
at  the  sun  and  you  can  see  nothing.  It  is  when  your  back 
is  turned  to  the  sun  that  you  see  most  clearly.  There  must 
be  some  combination  of  shade  with  light  that  we  ma}' 
be  able  to  see  anything.  And  this  is  one  reason  why  our 
faith,  like  the  tendrils,  turns  away  from  the  full  light. 
It  turns  not  only  toward  the  darkness  that  hides  God's 
infinity,  it  turns  also  toward  the  shadow  because  in  that 
something  of  his  nature  is  visible.  The  shadow  not  only 
conceals,  it  also  discloses. 

You  cannot  conceive  of  absolute  deity.  Your  mind  is 
dazzled  when  you  look  God  in  the  face,  just  as  your  eyes 
are  dazzled  when  you  look  the  sun  in  the  face.  Infinite 
knowledge,  infinite  power,  self-existence,  unconditioned 
being  —  you  cannot  grasp  these  ideas.  You  must  believe 
that  there  is  such  a  God  ;  you  need  such  a  God  to  trust  in, 
and  so  you  feel  after  him  in  the  darkness,  by  the  out- 
reaching  of  your  faith ;  but  you  cannot  see  him  by  the 
intellectual  vision ;  when  you  try  to  gaze  upon  his  per- 
fections you  are  blinded  by  the  sight.  And  men  have 
always  found  it  necessary  to  learn  what  God  is  by  looking 


90  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

toward  the  shadows  and  the  types  which  he  has  given  us. 
The  human  nature  is  a  reflection  of  the  divine ;  and  we  can 
only  comprehend  God  when  he  is  revealed  to  us  in  the 
forms  of  the  human  life.  This  is  the  Incarnation  —  it 
is  God  in  the  shadow.  Our  faith  finds  something  here  that 
we  can  take  hold  of  and  cling  to.  The  adumbration  of 
God  in  humanity  meets  the  deepest  need  of  the  human 
soul.  Thus  it  is  not  only  toward  the  darkness  that  hides 
the  Infinite  but  toward  the  shadows  that  temper  for  us  the 
brightness  of  his  glory  that  our  souls  reach  forth.  And  the 
tendrils  seem  after  all  to  have  a  lesson  for  us  when  they 
turn  away  from  the  light. 

Yet,  though  they  seek  the  shade,  they  know  what  it 
is  that  they  seek,  and  they  are  not  deceived.  "Knowing," 
says  Mr.  Darwin,  "  that  the  tendrils  avoided  the  light,  I 
gave  them  a  glass  tube  blackened  within,  and  a  well  black- 
ened zinc  plate ;  but  they  soon  recoiled  from  these  objects 
with  what  I  can  only  call  disgust,  and  straightened  them- 
selves." Here  we  have  not  a  likeness,  but  a  contrast.  For 
the  human  spirit  is  not  always,  like  the  tendrils  of  the 
climbing  plant,  unerring  in  its  selection  of  the  objects 
on  which  it  will  lay  hold.  Full  often  the  tendrils  of  our 
desire  touch  and  fasten  upon  that  which  defiles  us ;  and 
the  faith  that  ought  to  bind  us  fast  to  God's  righteousness 
and  power,  is  entwined  about  some  groveling  superstition 
or  some  ensnaring  sin.  The  plant  obeys  the  impulse  given 
to  it  by  the  divine  goodness,  and  obeys  it  unerringly ;  but 
man  to  whom  the  power  of  choice  is  given — ^a  power  that 
the  plant  does  not  possess,  —  abuses  his  birthright  and 
clings  to  the  corruptions  of  flesh  and  sense. 

"  When  a  tendril,"  says  our  teacher  again,  "  has  not 


THE    PARABLE     OF    THE     CLIMBING    PLANTS.  91 

succeeded  in  clasping  a  support,  either  through  its  own 
revolving  movement  or  that  of  the  shoot,  or  by  turning 
toward  any  object  that  intercepts  the  light,  it  bends  verti- 
cally downwards  and  then  toward  its  own  stem,  which  it 
seizes,  together  with  the  supporting  stick,  if  there  be  one." 
The  aptness  of  this  simile  you  do  not  fail  to  perceive. 
When  those  spiritual  instincts  of  our  nature  that  reach 
out  naturally  after  God  and  goodness  do  not  lay  hold  on 
that  which  is  their  normal  support,  they,  too,  are  very  apt 
to  turn  downward  and  inward,  and  to  lay  hold  upon  that 
self  which  it  was  their  true  function  to  bind  to  a  firm 
support.  Man  ought  to  trust  in  and  worship  something 
outside  of  and  above  himself;  it  is  his  nature  to  go  forth 
from  himself  in  search  of  such  an  object  to  worship ;  but 
sometimes  his  own  perverse  and  wicked  will  checks  these 
natural  aspirations,  and  will  not  suffer  them  to  fasten  upon 
the  Object  to  which  they  ought  to  cling.  And  when  this  is 
done  the  affections  are  apt  to  be  turned  backward  upon  self; 
the  man  comes  to  believe  only  in  himself  and  to  worship 
himself,  and  the  character  that  is  developed  is  a  most 
unlovely  product  of  egotism  and  selfishness.  Alas  for  the 
man  whose  trust  and  hope  are  in  himself  alone! 

"If  the  tendril  seizes  nothing,"  says  this  naturalist,  "it 
soon  withers  away  and  drops  ofi*."  There  is  a  world  of 
meaning  in  this  trait  of  the  parable.  The  tendril  shrivels 
and  dies  when  it  does  not  find  any  support  to  cling  to. 
The  disused  faculty  perishes  by  disuse.  And  these  instincts 
of  our  souls  that  reach  out  after  God  —  these  yearnings  for 
his  strength  and  his  peace  —  may  perish  in  the  same  way. 
The  desire  to  know  him  and  to  love  him  and  to  serve  him 
is  extinguished  in  the  breast,  if  we  refuse  his  service.     It  is 


9%  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

possible  thus,  by  simple  neglect,  to  destroy  that  part  of  our 
nature  by  which  we  take  hold  upon  God.  The  extinction 
of  the  faith-faculty  is  not  an  impossible  calamity.  Of  all 
calamities  that  could  befall  us  this  is  the  direst.  How  can 
the  climbing  plant  climb  when  the  tendrils  have  withered 
and  dropped  off?  It  must  thenceforth  grovel  in  the  dirt 
and  be  trodden  under  foot  of  men.  And  how  can  the  soul 
lift  itself  up,  when  all  the  faculties  by  which  it  takes  hold 
on  God  have  fallen  into  decay?  From  that  hour  its  destiny 
must  be  corruption  and  death. 

Let  us  hear  Mr.  Darwin  again:  ''Tendrils,  soon  after 
catching  a  support,  grow  much  stronger  and  thicker  and 
sometimes  more  durable  to  a  wonderful  degree ;  and  this 
shows  how  much  their  internal  tissues  must  be  changed. 
Occasionally  it  is  the  part  which  is  wound  round  a  support 
which  chiefly  becomes  thicker  and  stronger.  I  have  seen, 
for  instance,  this  part  of  a  tendril  of  Bignonia  sequinociialis 
twice  as  thick  and  rigid  as  the  free  basal  part."  Is  not 
this,  also,  true  in  the  higher  realm?  The  instincts  of  the 
soul  that  feel  after  God  are  wonderfully  strengthened  when 
they  find  him,  and  take  hold  of  his  power.  Faith  grows  by 
exercise.  The  man  who  says,  "Lord,  I  believe!"  —  even  if 
he  must,  because  of  the  infirmity  of  his  faith,  say  in 
the  same  breath,  "Help  thou  mine  unbelief!"  —  finds 
always  that  his  power  of  believing  increases  while  he 
speaks. 

"The  tendril  strikes  some  object,"  Mr.  Darwin  pro- 
ceeds, "  and  firmly  grasps  it.  In  the  course  of  some  hours 
it  contracts  into  a  spire,  dragging  up  the  stem  and  forming 
an  excellent  spring.  All  movements  now  cease.  By 
growth,  the  tissues    soon   become  wonderfully  strong   and 


THE    PARABLE     OF    THE     CLIMBING     PLANTS.  93 

durable."  The  very  character  and  quality  of  the  tendrils 
themselves  are  changed  as  they  thus  fasten  upon  their 
support,  and  perform  the  function  to  which  nature  has 
assigned  them.  And  so  it  is  with  these  spiritual  faculties 
of  ours  by  which  we  lay  hold  upon  God.  Our  trust,  instead 
of  being  a  tender  and  fragile  t?iing,  grows  firm  and  strong 
and  holds  us  fast  to  the  throne  of  God  with  a  grasp  that 
the  shocks  of  change  cannot  break  nor  the  storms  of 
adversity  loosen. 

One  more  quotation  from  this  wonderful  fable  of  the 
climbing  plants  must  suffice  us  for  to-day  :  "  The  tendrils 
and  internodes  of  Ampelopsis  have  little  or  no  power  of 
revolving ;  the  tendrils  are  but  little  sensitive  to  contact ; 
their  hooked  extremities  cannot  seize  their  objects ;  they 
will  not  even  clasp  a  stick  unless  in  extreme  need  of 
support ;  but  they  turn  from  the  light  to  the  dark,  and, 
spreading  out  their  branches  in  contact  with  any  nearly 
flat  surface,  develop  discs.  These  adhere  by  the  secretion 
of  some  cement  to  a  wall  or  even  to  a  polished  surface.  The 
rapid  development  of  these  adherent  discs  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  peculiarities  possessed  by  any  tendril." 
I  cannot  help  seeing  in  this  wonderful  provision  of  nature 
an  analogy  of  that  phenomenon  of  the  spiritual  life  which 
we  so  often  witness,  by  which  those  natures  which  have  but 
little  power  of  comprehending  religious  truth  —  of  reaching 
round  it  and  getting  hold  of  it  by  their  understanding  — 
do  yet  lay  hold  upon  it  in  a  way  of  their  own,  and  hold  fast 
to  it  very  firmly  too.  The  Ampelopsis  that  climbs  the  wall 
of  your  church  has  no  need  of  a  ladder  or  a  rope  to  climb 
by ;  its  own  little  discs  make  fast  to  the  wall,  and  hold  it 
quite  as  firmly  as  if  it  were  wound  round  a  trellis.     And 


94  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD.  ' 

SO  there  are  Christians  whose  faith  does  not  seem  to  need 
the  leading  strings  of  logic  or  theology,  but  mounts  right 
up  by  its  own  sure-footed  intuition.  And  it  is  a  blessed 
thing  that  those  to  whom  the  paths  of  philosophy  are 
thorny,  and  the  steeps  of  speculation  hard  to  climb,  may 
thus,  by  a  simple  and  direct  confidence  in  the  Christ 
himself,  who  is  to  all  who  receive  Him  the  Way  and  the 
Truth  and  the  Life,  ascend  to  the  serene  and  tranquil 
heights  of  virtue.  And  doubtless  it  would  often  be  better 
for  us  all  if,  instead  of  believing  much  ai^out  him,  we  would 
just  believe  on  him,  joining  ourselves  to  him  by  a  living 
faith,  and  trusting  where  we  cannot  see. 

Such  then  is  our  parable.  Its  meaning  has  been 
disclosed  as  we  have  told  it,  and  I  do  not  think  you  have 
failed  to  see  the  significance  of  its  teachings.  For  one 
thing  it  brings  us  into  a  better  acquaintance  with  those 
other  creatures  of  God  that  we  sometimes  think  have  but 
little  in  common  with  ourselves,  and  makes  us  see  how  near 
of  kin  we  are  to  the  vines  and  the  lilies  and  the  grass  of 
the  field.  In  the  story  of  their  lives  we  see  our  own  lives 
prefigured,  and  some  new  nieaning  is  given  to  that  bold 
parable  of  Paul  in  which  he  represents  the  whole  creation  as 
sharing  with  man  in  the  degradation  of  sin,  and  toiling 
upward  with  him  out  of  the  bondage  of  corruption  into  the 
glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God. 

For  proof  of  the  existence  of  these  instincts  of  the 
soul,  that  feel  after  God,  if  haply  they  may  find  him  ;  that 
impel  you,  often,  in  hours  of  darkness  and.  unrest,  to 
acquaint  yourself  with  him  that  you  may  be  at  peace  ;  that 
bear  witness  to  you  over  and  over  again,  telling  you  that  for 
these   things  of   life  —  these  choices,  these  burdens,  these 


THE    PARABLE    OF    THE    CLIMBING    PLANTS.  95 

conflicts,  these  fears,  you  are  not  sufficient;  that  your 
strength  needs  to  be  supplemented  by  the  strength  of  One 
who  is  ahnighty  —  for  the  existence  of  such  instincts  I  need 
only  go  for  proof  to  your  own  consciousness.  You  know 
what  they  are ;  you  have  felt  their  gentle  but  powerful 
drawings  in  your  own  hearts.  Toward  the  darkness  in 
which  the  Infinite  is  hidden,  toward  the  shadow  in  which 
He  is  disclosed,  your  desire  often  reaches  out ;  upon  the 
sure  support  that  you  know  is  somewhere  on  that  side  of 
your  nature  your  needs  and  your  longings  strive  to  fasten 
themselves.  Is  it  true  of  any  of  you  that  these  affections 
have  laid  hold  of  coarse  and  unworthy  objects,  or  that, 
failing  to  find  the  Object  to  which  they  ought  to  cling,  they 
have  turned  back  upon  yourselves,  aggravating  your  own 
"selfishness?"  Or  have  these  instincts  in  any  of  your 
natures,  through  neglect  or  disuse,  withered  and  dropped 
away,  leaving  you  with  no  faculties  by  which  you  can  take 
hold  on  the  things  that  are  above?  God  forbid  that  so  sad 
a  fate  should  overtake  any  of  those  to  whom  I  am  speaking 
to-day  ! 

Remember  this,  that  He  after  whom  our  desires  reach 
out  is  "not  far  from  every  one  of  us."  He  is  near  enough 
to  you  to-day  so  that  by  faith  you  may  join  your  life 
to  Him,  and  rest  forever  upon  his  unfailing  love.  And 
remember,  too,  that  though  our  grasp  upon  the  everlasting 
strength  be  frail  at  first,  it  strengthens  as  we  cling ;  as  we 
hold,  we  are  held  ;  all  the  experiences  of  life  confirm  the 
bond  that  joins  us  to  him ;  until  at  length  we  shall  be  able 
to  join  with  Paul  in  that  triumphant  utterance :  "  For  I 
am  persuaded  that  neither  death  nor  life  nor  angels  nor 
principalities    nor   powers,   nor  things    present,   nor  things 


96  THINOS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

to  come,  nor  height,  nor  depth,  nor  any  other  creature  shall 
be  able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God  which  is 
in   Christ  Jesus   our   Lord ! " 


THE  TAMING  OF  THE  TONGUE. 

James    hi:    7-8. 

"  For  every  kind  of  beasts  and  birds,  of  creeping  things  and  things  in 
the  sea  is  tamed  and  hath  been  tamed  by  mankind;  but  the 
tongue  can  no  man  tame:  it  is  a  restless  evil;  it  is  full  of 
deadly  poison.'^ 

The  story  is  told  of  an  ignorant  but  godly  man  who 
came  in  the  ancient  days  when  the  Bible  was  not  in  the 
hands  of  the  people,  to  one  of  the  fathers  of  the  church 
desiring  to  be  taught  the  Scriptures.  His  first  lesson  was 
the  thirty-ninth  Psalm  beginning  thus  :  "  I  said  I  will  take 
heed  to  m}'^  ways  that  I  sin  not  with  my  tongue."  He  went 
away  and  did  not  return  for  his  second  lesson.  Many  years 
passed  before  his  teacher  saw  him  ;  and,  when  they  met,  the 
preceptor  asked  the  pupil,  "How  was  it  that  you  never 
came  back  for  further  instruction  in  the  word  of  God?" 
"  Because,"  was  the  answer,  "  though  1  have  been  trying 
hard,  I  have  not  yet  learned  to  keep  the  first  verse  that  you 
taught  me."  He  had  found  the  taming  of  the  tongue  to  be 
a  task  as  difficult  as  James  reports  it  to  be. 

James,  the  writer  of  this  epistle,  was  the  brother  of  our 
Lord.     Whether  he  was  the  son  of  Joseph  by  a  former  mar- 


98  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

riage,  or  the  son  of  Joseph  and  Mary,  or  the  son  of  Alpheus, 
and  thus  a  cousin  rather  than  a  brother  of  Jesus  we  do  not 
know,  but  he  was  certainly  a  near  relative,  and  probably  a 
member  of  the  same  household.  Although  most  of  the 
brethren  of  Jesus  believed  not  on  him,  it  would  seem  that 
this  brother  was  his  disciple,  and  as  such  had  unusual 
opportunity  of  knowing  not  only  the  words  but  the  spirit 
of  the  Master.  At  all  events,  this  epistle  of  James,  not  only 
in  the  style  in  which  it  is  written,  making  free  use  as  it  does 
of  simile  and  natural  imagery,  but  also  in  its  vigorous 
ethical  tone,  in  its  persistent  putting  of  conduct  above  every 
thing  else,  is  more  like  the  teachings  of  Christ  as  they  are 
recorded  in  the  first  three  gospels  than  any  other  part  of 
the  New  Testament.  This  man  —  we  should  say  at  once,  if 
we  knew  nothing  about  his  family  record  —  this  man  has 
been  with  Jesus  and  has  learned  of  him. 

The  intense  practicalness  of  James  as  a  religious  teacher 
leads  him  directly  to  this  topic  of  the  taming  of  the  tongue. 
Here  he  sees,  what  every  man  to  whom  behavior  is  a  chief 
concern  must  see,  one  of  the  pivotal  points  of  character. 
The  religion  that  does  not  rule  the  speech  is  a  failure  and  a 
fraud.  "  If  any  man  among  you,"  he  says  in  another 
chapter,  "if  any  man  among  you  seem  to  be  religious  and 
bridleth  not  his  tongue,  but  deceiveth  his  own  heart,  this 
man's  religion  is  vain."  Hence  James  struck  straight  and 
hard  at  the  vices  of  speech ;  more  than  any  other  teacher 
except  our  Lord  he  emphasises  the  evils  that  grow  out  of 
the  abuses  of  this  goodly  faculty  of  man. 

The  tongue,  in  the  figure  of  James,  is  a  wild  beast  that 
needs  taming  —  fierce,  reasonless,  uncontrollable.  A  good 
part  of  the  evils  of  life  arise  from  its  depredations.      We 


THE    T AMINO    OF    THE    TONGUE.  99 

will  not  pursue  his  figure  for  the  present,  but  will  tr}'  to 
make  a  catalogue  of  some  of  the  more  common  forms  of 
transgression  and  injury  of  which  the  tongue  is  the  author ; 
of  some  of  the  kinds  of  tongues  that  need  taming. 

First,  of  course,  is  the  lying  tongue.  Of  all  the  evils 
of  speech  falsehood  is  central  and  seminal.  How  many 
ways  the  skilful  tongue  has  of  lying  I  will  not  try  to  tell, 
—  from  the  brazen  utterance  of  the  thing  that  is  not,  to  the 
careful  form  of  words  that  conceals  instead  of  revealing  the 
fact ;  that  conveys  to  the  mind  a  falsehood,  while  literallly 
stating  a  truth.  It  is  useless  to  classify  this  devil's  brood 
of  lies ;  their  name  is  legion ;  and  despite  the  attempt  to 
invent  fine  names  for  some  of  them  they  are  all  of  a  color ; 
or,  if  there  is  one  kind  of  lie  blacker  than  the  rest,  it  is  that 
kind  which  deals  in  insinuation  and  in  the  artful  conveying 
of  false  impressions. 

2.  Next  to  the  lying  tongue  we  must  put  the  reviling 
tongue.  The  tongue  that  utters  blasphemy,  that  lightly 
and  wantonly  discourses  of  sacred  themes ;  the  tongue  from 
which  the  oath  and  the  ribald  jest  drop  thoughtlessly ;  the 
tongue  that  assails  with  brutal  and  abusive  speech  not 
only  the  Lord  most  high  but  men  who  are  made  in  his 
similitude,  —  how  many  are  there  of  these  that  fill  the  air 
we  breathe  with  noxious  forms  of  speech.  The  tongue  that 
was  made  to  bless  with,  men  use  to  curse  with  ;  the  tongue 
that  ought  to  ulter  words  of  reverence  and  words  of  praise 
and  words  of  cheer  and  words  of  good-will  becomes  the 
utterer  of  withering  scoffs  and  chilling  execrations.  How 
often,  when  we  hear  men  talking,  we  are  moved  to  cry  out, 
"  What  a  wild  beast  that  tongue  is  !  who  can  tame  it?" 

3.  After  the  reviling  tongue  the  foul  tongue  must  be 


100  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

reckoned,  —  the  tongue  that  is  the  channel  through  which 
the  impurities  of  a  bad  heart  discharge  themselves ;  the 
tongue  that  deals  in  indecent  and  salacious  speech.  0  the 
poison  and  pollution  that  thus  drip  day  by  day  from  wicked 
tongues  into  untutored  ears,  bearing  their  curse  along  with 
them  ! 

4.  Next  we  think  of  the  passionate  tongue ;  the 
tongue  that  hastens  to  give  voice  to  the  anger  and  the  hate 
that  arise  within.  Anger,  the  Latin  poet  said,  is  a  brief 
insanity ;  and  when  it  begins  to  rage  within  the  breast  it 
needs  to  be  chained  and  kept  under  till  its  paroxysm  is 
past.  But  the  mischeivous  tongue  sometimes  sets  it  loose 
and  becomes  its  servitor  —  to  hurl  missiles  of  hot  and 
stinging  words  right  and  left,  doing  damage  that  it  is  hard 
to  repair.  Not  only  to  those  against  whom  these  angry 
words  are  flung  is  the  damage  done  ;  their  reaction  upon 
the  one  who  utters  them  is  even  worse.  He  who  in  anger 
gives  vent  to  harsh  or  unjust  or  reckless  words  generally 
hurts  himself  far  more  than  he  can  hurt  any  one  else.  The 
remembrance  of  this  outburst  either  fills  him  with  shame 
and  humiliation,  and  thus  lowers  his  self-respect,  or  else,  in 
a  foolish  consistency,  he  goes  on  to  make  his  conduct 
conform  to  this  hasty' utterance,  —  to  be  as  spiteful  or  as 
desperate  as  he  then  rashly  professed  to  be.  Thus,  often, 
the  unbridled  tongue  commits  a  man  to  ways  in  which  he 
never  really  chose  to  walk,  and  drags  him  along  toward 
folly  or  sin.  Is  there  not  need  that  we  should  all  learn  to 
put  a  curb  upon  it? 

5.  The  sarcastic  tongue  is  another  kind  that  needs 
taming.  Sarcasm  has  its  uses,  no  doubt;  in  our  warfare 
with  incorrigible  evil  doers  we  must  sometimes  resort  to  it ; 


THE    TAMING    OF    THE    TONGUE.  101 

but  in  the  common  intercourse  of  life  it  is  scarcely  more 
legitimate  than  the  cudgel  or  the  rapier.  Yet  we  are 
tempted,  many  of  us,  to  use  it  too  often.  It  lies  near 
our  hands ;  it  is  an  effective  weapon  ;  we  can  make  some 
people  wince,  and  some  people  tremble  when  we  use  it;  it  is 
a  great  self-denial  to  refrain  from  using  it.  Nevertheless, 
it  would  be  better  for  many  of  us  to  handle  it  much  less 
frequently.  A  sharp  and  biting  tongue  is  a  dangerous 
instrument ;  they  are  not  wise  who  play  with  it.  Keen  and 
bitter  words,  albeit  they  are  deserved,  often  rankle  in  the 
memory  long  after  they  are  uttered.  They  hurt  harder  than 
blows  and  are  harder  to  forget.  Reproof  may  be  often 
necessary,  but  a  reproof,  even  a  stern  one,  need  not  be  a 
scornful  and  biting  one.  The  arrows  of  sarcasm  are 
barbed  with  contempt ;  that  is  what  makes  them  rankle  so ; 
and  contempt  is  a  feeling  that  a  good  man  cannot  afford  to 
indulge.  Resentment,  indignation,  wrath,  are  sometimes 
holy  feelings  ;  but  contempt  for  any  creature  God  has  made 
is  not  a  feeling  to  be  cherished.  Human  beings  may  some- 
times behave  themselves  in  such  a  way  that  it  is  hard  for 
us  to  keep  the  feeling  down  ;  but  that  is  our  business,  to 
keep  it  down ;  no  word  ought  ever  to  give  it  utterance. 
And  sarcasm  is  the  utterance  of  it.  It  is  the  sneer  in  the 
satire  or  the  ridicule  that  galls  and  vvounds. 

Let  us  beware  of  the  indulgence  of  sarcasm.  It  may 
sometimes  be  resorted  to ;  so  may  a  club  or  a  revolver 
be  sometimes  resorted  to  ;  but  we  do  not  usually  think  it 
wise  to  employ  them  in  our  intercourse  with  those  wbom 
we  wish  to  regard  as  our  friends,  nor  with  those  over  whom 
we  hope  to  maintain  a  salutary'  influence. 

6.     The  scolding  tongue  is  another  kind  that  calls  for  a 


100  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

reckoned,  —  the  tongue  that  is  the  channel  through  which 
the  impurities  of  a  bad  heart  discharge  themselves ;  the 
tongue  that  deals  in  indecent  and  salacious  speech.  0  the 
poison  and  pollution  that  thus  drip  day  by  day  from  wicked 
tongues  into  untutored  ears,  bearing  their  curse  along  with 
them  ! 

4.  Next  we  think  of  the  passionate  tongue ;  the 
tongue  that  hastens  to  give  voice  to  the  anger  and  the  hate 
that  arise  within.  Anger,  the  Latin  poet  said,  is  a  brief 
insanity ;  and  when  it  begins  to  rage  within  the  breast  it 
needs  to  be  chained  and  kept  under  till  its  paroxysm  is 
past.  But  the  mischeivous  tongue  sometimes  sets  it  loose 
and  becomes  its  servitor  —  to  hurl  missiles  of  hot  and 
stinging  words  right  and  left,  doing  damage  that  it  is  hard 
to  repair.  Not  only  to  those  against  whom  these  angry 
words  are  flung  is  the  damage  done ;  their  reaction  upon 
the  one  who  utters  them  is  even  worse.  He  who  in  anger 
gives  vent  to  harsh  or  unjust  or  reckless  words  generally 
hurts  himself  far  more  than  he  can  hurt  any  one  else.  The 
remembrance  of  this  outburst  either  fills  him  with  shame 
and  humiliation,  and  thus  lowers  his  self-respect,  or  else,  in 
a  foolish  consistency,  he  goes  on  to  make  his  conduct 
conform  to  this  hasty  utterance,  —  to  he  as  spiteful  or  as 
desperate  as  he  then  rashly  professed  to  be.  Thus,  often, 
the  unbridled  tongue  commits  a  man  to  ways  in  which  he 
never  really  chose  to  walk,  and  drags  him  along  toward 
folly  or  sin.  Is  there  not  need  that  we  should  all  learn  to 
put  a  curb  upon  it? 

5.  The  sarcastic  tongue  is  another  kind  that  needs 
taming.  Sarcasm  has  its  uses,  no  doubt;  in  our  warfare 
with  incorrigible  evil  doers  we  must  sometimes  resort  to  it ; 


THE    TAMING    OF    THE    TONGUE.  101 

but  in  the  common  intercourse  of  life  it  is  scarcely  more 
legitimate  than  the  cudgel  or  the  rapier.  Yet  we  are 
tempted,  many  of  us,  to  use  it  too  often.  It  lies  near 
our  hands ;  it  is  an  effective  weapon ;  we  can  make  some 
people  wince,  and  some  people  tremble  when  we  use  it ;  it  is 
a  great  self-denial  to  refrain  from  using  it.  Nevertheless, 
it  would  be  better  for  many  of  us  to  handle  it  much  less 
frequently.  A  sharp  and  biting  tongue  is  a  dangerous 
instrument ;  they  are  not  wise  who  play  with  it.  Keen  and 
bitter  words,  albeit  they  are  deserved,  often  rankle  in  the 
memory  long  after  they  are  uttered.  They  hurt  harder  than 
blows  and  are  harder  to  forget.  Reproof  may  be  often 
necessary,  but  a  reproof,  even  a  stern  one,  need  not  be  a 
scornful  and  biting  one.  The  arrows  of  sarcasm  are 
barbed  with  contempt ;  that  is  what  makes  them  rankle  so ; 
and  contempt  is  a  feeling  that  a  good  man  cannot  afford  to 
indulge.  Resentment,  indignation,  wrath,  are  sometimes 
holy  feelings ;  but  contempt  for  any  creature  God  has  made 
is  not  a  feeling  to  be  cherished.  Human  beings  may  some- 
times behave  themselves  in  such  a  way  that  it  is  hard  for 
us  to  keep  the  feeling  down  ;  but  that  is  our  business,  to 
keep  it  down ;  no  word  ought  ever  to  give  it  utterance. 
And  sarcasm  is  the  utterance  of  it.  It  is  the  sneer  in  the 
satire  or  the  ridicule  that  galls  and  wounds. 

Let  us  beware  of  the  indulgence  of  sarcasm.  It  may 
sometimes  be  resorted  to ;  so  may  a  club  or  a  revolver 
be  sometimes  resorted  to  ;  but  we  do  not  usually  think  it 
wise  to  employ  them  in  our  intercourse  with  those  wjiom 
we  wish  to  regard  as  our  friends,  nor  with  those  over  whom 
we  hope  to  maintain  a  salutary  influence. 

6.     The  scolding  tongue  is  another  kind  that  calls  for  a 


102  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

curb.  Angry  and  severe  and  constant  complaints  or  re- 
proofs are  not  often  wholesome  to  those  who  deal  in  them 
nor  to  those  who  suflfer  them.  Doubtless  it  is  sometimes 
hard  to  refrain  from  scolding.  The  temper  is  tried  by  the 
little  vexations  of  life  and  out  of  the  abundance  of  the 
provocation  the  mouth  speaketh  more  than  is  meet.  To 
keep  from  angrily  chiding  children  and  servants  and  clerks 
and  pupils  and  parishioners  when  they  are  disobedient  or 
careless  or  negligent  or  wayward  or  unfaithful,  takes  not  a 
little  grace  —  more,  I  fear,  than  is  vouchsafed  to  some  of  us. 
Reproofs  must  be  spoken,  but  sometimes  there  are  too 
many  of  them,  and  their  tone  is  too  impatient,  or  too  harsh 
or  too  loud.  Reproof  must  sometimes  be  severe,  but  it 
may  be  severe  without  being  petulant.  The  scolding 
tongue  makes  great  trouble  in  many  homes,  and  takes  all 
the  vigor  and  wholesomeness  from  the  discipline  of  many 
parents  and  teachers  —  turning  it  into  a  teasing  and  irrita- 
ting application,  that  rasps  and  blisters  but  does  not  cure. 
7.  The  flattering  tongue  is  a  tongue  that  needs  the  bit. 
The  wickedness  and  mischief  of  flattery  who  can  overstate? 
Honest  and  hearty  praise  is  not  to  be  avoided  ;  we  do  not 
have  half  enough  of  it.  The  sincere  commendation  of  one 
who  has  done  well  is  a  means  of  grace  to  him  ;  it  strengthens 
his  purpose  to  do  better.  Many  are  toiling  on,  heartsick  and 
hopeless,  to  whom  such  a  word  of  recognition  would  be  as 
cold  water  to  a  thirsty  soul.  When  your  children  do  well, 
praise  them ;  speak  with  moderation,  with  discrimination ; 
do  not  let  your  words  be  so  extravagant  as  to  kindle  their 
conceit ;  but  let  them  see  that  you  are  as  quick  to'  recognize 
and  approve  the  good  in  them  as  you  are  to  censure  the 
evil.     If  your   pupils  or  your  domestics  or  your  working 


THE    TAMING    OF    THE    TONGUE.  103 

people  or  your  clerks  are  diligent  and  faithful  let  them  know 
that  you  appreciate  their  endeavors.  But  this  is  not  flat- 
tery. Flattery  is  either  false  praise,  or  praise  addressed, 
not  to  the  quality  of  our  actions,  so  much  as  to  our  excel- 
lences of  person  or  that  which  is  external  to  us.  To  praise 
your  child's  looks,  and  so  stimulate  his  vanity,  that  is  flat- 
tery, a  most  nauseous  exhibition  of  it ;  and  the  tongue  that 
indulges  in  it  ought  to  be  bridled.  There  are  many  such. 
But  the  worst  kind  of  flattery  is  that  which  seeks  to  please, 
and  so  to  entice,  by  artful  and  insincere  praises.  This  is  a 
species  of  lying,  of  course  ;  but  it  is  a  species  so  mean  and 
dangerous  that  it  needs  to  be  singled  out  and  denounced. 
How  many  base  creatures  there  are  who  by  the  arts  of  flat- 
tery are  beguiling  the  unwary  to  their  ruin  !  How  many 
such  flattering  words  are  spoken  in  this  city  every  day  — 
words  of  admiration  or  esteem  or  tender  regard  that  are 
false  and  deceitful ;  the  very  slime  of  the  pit  is  on  them  ! 
"He  that  flattereth  his  neighbor  spreadeth  a  net  for  his 
feet,"  says  the  wise  man.  Remember  it,  I  pray  you  ;  and 
"  meddle  not  with  him  that  flattereth  with  his  lips."  And 
if,  in  your  natural  desire  to  please,  you  yourself  are  some- 
what addicted  to  the  utterance  of  insincere  and  deceitful 
words  of  praise  or  admiration  or  personal  interest,  seek  to 
overcome  that  fault ;  it  is  a  grievous  one. 

8.  The  chattering  tongue  is  another  kind  that  needs 
restraint  and  discipline.  It  is  a  fault  of  many  tongues  that 
thev  talk  too  much.  The  nerves  that  connect  the  brain 
with  the  vocal  organs  are  too  active ;  the  communication 
between  the  mind  that  thinks  and  the  tongue  that  utters  the 
thought  is  too  close.  A  thought  can  not  come  into  the  head 
without  flying  out  of  the  mouth.     A  few  people  are  too  taci- 


lOJi.  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

turn ;  a  great  many  are  too  talkative.  They  talk  so  much 
that  they  cannot  weigh  their  words ;  they  say  many  things 
every  waking  hour  that  were  better  unsaid.  Such  endless 
prattle  is  an  encroachment  on  other  people's  rights.  They 
who  listen  to  it  are  defrauded.  How  much  time  is  consumed 
in  attending  to  words  that  are  utterly  destitute  of  thought, 
that  convey  no  ideas  and  impart  no  benefits  !  How  many 
things  we  might  have  done  that  were  worth  doing,  how 
many  things  we  might  have  thought  of  that  were  worth 
thinking  of,  while  we  were  listening !  But  what  is  worse  it 
is  debilitating  to  the  one  who  indulges  in  it.  He  talks  so 
much  that  he  has  no  time  to  think.  The  tongue  runs  so 
steadily  that  it  gets  a  habit  of  running;  it  is  a  kind  of 
physical  habit ;  it  is  almost  involuntary.  There  are  those 
who  seem  to  me  to  talk  much  as  one  moves  who  is  afflicted 
with  St.  Vitus's  Dance,  because  they  cannot  help  it.  This 
irresistable  impulse  to  talk  calls  for  a  constant  supply  of 
words,  and  in  they  go,  to  keep  the  hopper  full,  without  con- 
sideration or  order  or  judgement.  Such  a  habit  must  have 
a  constantly  enervating  effect  upon  the  mind.  The  mean- 
ing and  value  of  such  a  talker's  words  are  as  much  depreci- 
ated as  is  the  currency  of  a  bank  that  resorts  to  an  enor- 
mous over-issue.  "  Set  a  watch,  0  God,"  prayed  the 
Psalmist,  "before  my  mouth;  keep  the  door  of  my  lips." 
The  trouble  with  some  of  these  constant  talkers  seems  to 
be  that  there  is  no  door  to  their  lips,  nothing  but  a  doorway. 
There  ought  to  be  a  door,  and  it  ought  to  be  shut  a  good 
deal  of  the  time,  so  that  the  mind  within  may  have  time 
to  set  its  thoughts  in  order,  and  judge  them  and  utter  them 
with  wisdom  and  deliberation. 

9.     The  last  kind  of  tongue  I  shall  mention  that  needs 


THE    TAMING    OF    THE    TONGUE.  105 

taming  is  the  slanderous  tongue.  How  great  is  the  mischief 
of  slander  is  indicated  by  the  fact  that  far  back  in  the  dawn 
of  history,  when  the  law  of  morality  was  reduced  to  the 
form  of  commandments,  this  was  one  of  the  things  singled 
out  and  ranked  with  murder  and  theft  and  adultery,  as 
especially  worthy  of  condemnation.  Slander,  in  the  strict 
meaning  of  the  term,  comes  under  the  head  of  lying;  but 
it  is  a  kind  of  lying  which,  like  its  antithesis,  flattery,  ought 
to  be  set  apart  for  special  censure. 

To  speak  evil  of  their  neighbors  is  to  some  men  and 
women  a  positive  luxury.  They  enjoy  a  bit  of  scandal  as 
they  enjoy  a  delicious  viand  ;  they  roll  it  as  a  sweet  morsel 
under  their  tongues.  If  they  discover  something  to  the 
discredit  of  a  man  or  woman  or  child,  they  can  never  refrain 
from  repeating  it.  I  confess  myself  unable  to  understand 
or  interpret  this  propensity.  Some  explain  it  by  saying 
that  those  who  are  so  quick  to  circulate  bad  stories  about 
their  neighbors  must  be  bad  themselves ;  that  they  want  to 
drag  everybody  else  down  to  their  own  level  —  but  this  is 
a  harsh  judgment.  Many  who  are  adicted  to  this  vice  of 
talebearing  are,  I  am  sure,  in  other  respects  worthy  and 
blameless  people.  I  know  some  in  whom  this  is  almost  the 
only  fault.  They  are  honest  and  generous  and  helpful,  but 
they  will  tell  tales  about  their  neighbors ;  they  will  retail 
gossip.  To  make  a  grave  in  their  own  breasts  for  an  inju- 
rious rumor ;  to  refuse  to  credit  or  to  lend  currency  to  a 
mischievous  story  —  this  is  a  thing  which  they  are  incapa- 
ble of  doing.  Many  of  these  would  not  tell  a  story  for  true, 
if  they  knew  that  it  was  not  true.  But  they  will  tell  it,  all 
the  same  ;  and  say  that  they  do  not  credit  it.  "  Have  you 
heard  that  Jones  &  Brown  are  about  to  fail?     It  is  reported 


106  fniNGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

on  the  street  that  they  have  called  a  meeting  of  their  credi- 
tors ;  but  I  don't  believe  it."  Well,  then,  what  do  you  men- 
tion it  for?  The  person  to  whom  you  repeat  the  tale  may 
have  more  credulity  or  less  charity  than  yourself,  and  may 
repeat  it  without  any  disclaimer ;  and  so  you  become  the 
abettor  of  a  most  harmful  assault  upon  your  neighbor's 
credit.  "  Have  you  heard  the  story  that  Mrs.  X.  lives  un- 
happily with  her  husband?  I  don't  believe  it,  do  you?" 
Such  currency  as  this  is  given  every  day  by  people  who  call 
themselves  Christians  to  tales  which  they  have  not  only  no 
reason  to  believe  but  which  they  have  every  reason  to 
disbelieve. 

There  is  another  very  large  class  of  stories  which  such 
people  spend  a  good  part  of  their  lives  in  circulating.  These 
are  tales  that  may  be  true,  and  may  not ;  but  of  whose  truth 
they  have  no  knowledge.  The  tale-bearer  hears  the  story 
from  a  reputable  person,  and  does  not  know  that  it  is  not 
true,  so  he  passes  it  on.  The  great  mass  of  all  the  gossip 
in  circulation  is  of  this  character,  and  the  injury  and  wrong 
that  is  done  by  keeping  it  in  circulation  no  words  can  tell. 

Here  comes  a  woman  with  a  story  on  her  lips  about 
another  woman  —  a  story  which,  if  it  were  true,  would  sink 
the  woman  of  whom  it  was  told  into  a  pit  of  infamy.  The 
tale-bearer  rehearses  it'  to  you,  with  the  greatest  particu- 
larity ;  there  are  certain  suspicious  circumstances  that  give 
color  to  the  story,  and  she  does  not  fail  to  descant  on  these ; 
if  you  credit  her  you  never  again  can  trust  or  honor  the 
person  of  whom  she  is  speaking.  But  suppose  you  let  me 
question  her. 

"  Madam,  this  is  a  grave  accusation  that  you  are  mak- 
ing against  the  character  of  one  of  your  sisters.     You  are 


THE    T AMINO     OF    THE    TONGUE.  107 

aware,  I  suppose,  how  sensitive  and  how  precious  a  thing  a 
woman's  reputation  is;  you  would  not  utter  a  word  that 
would  bring  reproach  upon  a  woman  unless  you  were  abso- 
lutely sure  that  that  word  were  true ;  do  you  know,  from 
your  own  knowledge,  that  these  statements  that  you  have 
made  are  true?" 

"0,  no,"  she  answers,  "I  know  nothing  about  the 
matter  myself,  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  they  are  true ;  I 
had  the  story  on  good  authority." 

"You  do  not  know  that  it  is  true  :  how  dare  you  repeat 
such  a  story  unless  you  know  that  it  is  true?  How  can 
you,  a  woman,  take  any  part  in  giving  currency  to  a  tale 
about  a  woman  that  may  not  he  truef^ 

"Why,  I  did  not  think  there  could  be  any  harm  in 
repeating  it :  it  was  told  to  me  by  Mrs.  Soandso ;  she  is  a 
good  woman,  a  prominent  member  of  the  church  and  an 
active  worker  in  all  the  benevolent  societies ;  she  would  not 
be  likely  to  tell  a  story  that  was  not  true." 

"  Madam,  it  is  no  flattery  to  say  that  you  yourself  are 
a  prominent  member  of  the  church,  and  an  active  worker 
in  benevolence;  you  have  reported  this  story  to  me  without 
knowing  that  it  is  true ;  you  yourself  have  furnished  me 
the  evidence  that  respectable  people  can  tell  evil  tales  about 
their  neighbors,  the  truth  of  which  they  do  not  know.  I 
have  no  reason  to  suppose  that  Mrs.  Soandso  is  any  more 
scrupulous  in  such  matters  than  you  are ;  therefore  I  have 
no  reason  to  believe  that  she  knew  anything  about  the  truth 
of  the  thing  she  has  reported,  or  that  her  informant  knew 
anything  about  it,  and  so  on.  And  I  do  know,  by  long 
experience  in  these  matters,  that,  of  the  evil  tales  that  are 
in  circulation  among  respectable  people,  Christian  people, 


108  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

concerning  their  neighbors,  more  than  half  are  utterly- 
destitute  of  foundation,  and  four-fifths  of  the  rest  are  so 
grossly  exaggerated  and  distorted  that  they  are  little  better 
than  lies.  There  are,  therefore,  nine  chances  in  ten  that  if 
you  repeat  a  story  that  comes  to  you  from  what  you  regard 
as  good  authority,  you  are  helping  to  perpetrate  a  grave 
injustice;  you  are  conspiring  to  inflict  a  wanton  injury 
upon   an   innocent   person." 

Yet  the  wickedness  of  reporting  such  stories  is  not,  I 
am  sure,  as  obvious  to  a  great  many  good  people  as  it  ought 
to  be.  Slander,  talebearing,  mischievous  gossip,  they  know 
they  ought  not  to  practice ;  but  these  sins  consist,  as  they 
seem  to  suppose,  in  telling  tales  about  others  that  they 
know  to  be  false.  To  repeat  a  story  which  comes  from  a 
respectable  source  and  which  they  do  not  know  to  be  a  lie, 
this  is  not  gossip  as  they  understand  it.  My  friends,  this  is 
gossip ;  this  is  the  very  talebearing  that  is  denounced  in 
the  Bible ;  this  is  one  of  the  worst  depredations  that  the 
ravenous  tongue  of  man  ever  commits  upon  the  rights 
of  his  neighbors.  I  wish  I  could  make  this  seem  as  plain 
to  all  of  you  as  it  seems  to  me.  I  have  seen  so  many 
reputations  stained,  so  many  lives  marred,  so  many  strong 
friends  separated,  so  many  homes  made  wretched  by  this 
vice  of  talebearing,  that  it  has  come  to  appear  in  my  eyes 
one  of  the  most  mischievous  faults  to  which  men  and 
women  are  addicted.  And  I  know  some  men  and  women  — 
there  are  some  whom  I  love  and  honor  —  who  are  greatly 
given  to  it.  I  wish  they  would  stop  it.  They  do  not  mean 
to  be  cruel  and  unjust,  and  it  is  cruel,  it  is  unjust  to  repeat 
a  story  to  your  neighbor's  discredit  whose  truth  you  do  not 
know.     Even  if  you  do  know  the  story  is  true,  it  may  be  a 


THE    TAMING     OF    THE    TONGUE.  109 

grave  question  whether  you  shall  circulate  it  or  not.  If 
your  neighbor's  fault  is  a  crime  against  society,  it  may  be 
your  duty  to  deliver  him  up  to  justice;  if  it  is  a  fault 
which  society  has  no  power  to  punish,  it  is  probably  your 
duty  to  take  the  charity  that  covereth  all  things  and  hide 
the  fault  from  the  sight  of  men.  But  if  the  accusation  is 
only  a  rumor,  then  no  matter  how  respectable  the  source 
from  which  you  receive  it,  your  duty  is  to  suppress  it. 
That  is  a  rule  to  which  there  can  be  but  few  exceptions ; 
and  if  the  people  who  profess  to  be  Christians  would  only 
live  up  to  it,  the  fellowship  of  the  churches  would  be  greatly 
strengthened,  and  their  power  for  good  indefinitely  in- 
creased. Your  tongue,  0  talebearer,  is  one  of  those  that 
most  need   taming ! 

What  is  true  of  spoken  gossip  is  equally  true  of  that 
which  is  printed  in  the  newspapers.  The  tongue  will  be 
tamed,  I  judge,  quite  as  soon  as  the  types.  If  a  man  would 
not  be  deemed  a  gentleman  who  went  about  every  morning 
ringing  his  neighbors'  door-bells,  and  rehearsing  to  them 
bits  of  gossip  that  he  had  picked  up  in  the  street,  why 
should  the  man  be  considered  a  gentleman  who  prints  such 
stuff  in  his  newspaper  and  sends  out  his  newsboys  to 
peddle  it  through  the  town?  You  would  use  harsh  words 
about  a  man  who  got  his  living  by  retailing  scandal,  orally, 
for  five  cents  a  customer ;  what  have  you  to  say  about  the 
man  who  spices  his  newspaper  with  such  items  to  make 
it  sell? 

"But  the  tongue  can  no  man  tame."  So  much  the 
more  need,  then,  that  a  power  stronger  than  man's  should 
be  invoked  to  subdue  its  unruliness  and  mitigate  its  fierce- 
ness.    Such  a  divine  power  the  fables  of  all  the  peoples 


110  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

have  celebrated ;  the  power  that  tames  the  wildest  beasts, 
and  makes  the  tiger  as  gentle  and  docile  as  a  lamb.  The 
mythic  song  of  Amphion  is  but  a  prelude  of  the  triumph 
of  the  Prince  of  Peace,  under  whose  blessed  reign  all 
savage  and  noxious  creatures  shall  learn  obedience  and 
service ;  when  the  wolf  shall  dwell  with  the  lamb  and 
the  leopard  shall  lie  down  with  the  kid,  and  the  calf  and 
the  young  lion  and  the  fatling  together,  and  a  little  child 
shall  lead  them.  And  though,  as  James  testifies,  the 
tongue  is  more  intractable  than  any  of  these,  yet  He  is 
able  to  bring  this  also  into  subjection.  No  man  can  tame 
it ;  but  He  at  whose  word  the  demoniac  ceased  his  ravings, 
and  the  savage  seas  hushed  their  tumult,  —  He  who  has  the 
power  and  the  purpose  to  subdue  all  things  unto  himself — 
can  cause  the  lying  tongue  to  speak  verities,  and  the 
reviling  tongue  to  praise  and  bless,  and  the  passionate 
tongue  to  be  silent  when  the  anger  rises,  and  the  foul 
tongue  to  utter  purity,  and  the  sarcastic  tongue  to  temper 
its  severities,  and  the  scolding  tongue  to  learn  gentleness, 
and  the  flattering  tongue  to  speak  with  sincerity,  and  the 
chattering  tongue  to  be  more  discreet,  and  the  talebearing 
tongue  to   be   still. 


THE    TAMED    TONGUE. 

Proverbs  xv:    4. 

"A  wholesome  tongue  is  a  tree  of  life." 

We  gave  some  heed,  not  long  ago,  to  the  taming  of  the 
tongue,  a  task,  as  we  then  learned  on  good  authority,  quite 
beyond  the  power  and  skill  of  man.  All  other  wild  beasts 
bow  to  his  sway  and  do  homage  to  his  intelligence,  but  the 
tongue  is  more  intractable  than  the  wildest  of  them  ;  many 
a  lion  tamer  blasphemes  God  and  curses  men;  many  a 
man  who  proves  his  mastery  over  the  lower  tribes,  is  a 
slave  to  garrulity  or  deceit  or  boastfulness.  Yet  though 
with  man  this  may  be  impossible,  with  God  all  things  are 
possible ;  and  more  than  one  fierce  or  false  tongue  has  been 
subdued  by  the  victorious  grace  of  God  to  obey  the  laws  of 
truth  and  kindness.  The  fountain  that  sent  forth  bitter 
waters  with  the  sweet,  and  bitter  more  than  sweet,  has  been 
purified  so  that  all  that  issued  from  it  was  pure  and 
refreshing.  The  unruly  evil  full  of  deadly  poison  has  been 
transformed  into  a  servant  of  order  and  a  minister  of 
health  and  blessing. 


112  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

For  proof,  I  need  only  appeal  to  your  own  observation. 
You  hjive  witnessed  more  than  one  such  change  as  this. 
You  have  known  those  who  were  deceitful  of  speech  and 
who  by  the  grace  of  God  have  become  truthful  and  sincere ; 
those  who  were  foul-mouthed  and  profane,  who  have  been 
taught  to  speak  purely  and  reverently ;  those  wdio  once 
were  passionate  and  petulant  in  their  talk,  but  who  have 
learned  to  guard  the  door  of  their  lips  so  that  hot  or  hateful 
words  rarely  found  utterance ;  those  who  were  once  given  to 
tale-bearing,  but  whose  habit  it  has  become  to  speak  good 
and  not  evil  of  their  fellowmen. 

History,  both  sacred  and  secular,  is  full  of  such  ex- 
amples. .John  the  Evangelist,  the  son  of  thunder,  who  was 
ready  to  call  down  fire  from  heaven  upon  "the  people  of  an 
inhospitable  Samaritan  village,  and  who  afterwards  became 
the  very  voice  of  gentleness  and  grace ;  Paul  the  apostle, 
who  from  being  one  who  breathed  out  threatenings  and 
slaughter  as  his  native  breath,  was  changed  into  one  from 
whom  all  bitterness  and  wrath  and  anger  and  clamor  and 
evil  speaking,  with  all  malice,  was  forever  put  away ;  John 
Newton,  the  slave  trader,  John  Bunyan,  the  profane  tinker, 
and  many  others,  are  living  witnesses  of  the  power  of  the 
grace  of  God  to  cleanse  the  fountain  from  which  the  speech 
proceeds,  and  to  chasten  the  unholy  tongue  into  sobriety 
and  kindness. 

And  as  we  saw,  in  our  other  study,  something  of  the 
evils  that  flow  from  an  untamed  tongue,  it  will  be  useful  for 
us  this  morning  to  consider  how  much  good  may  proceed 
from  the  tongue  that  is  tamed  ;  what  a  source  of  all  health- 
ful and  beneficent  influences  is  to  l)e  found  in  sanctified 
speech. 


THE    TAMED     TONGI'E.  US 

"A  wholesome  tongue,"  Sc\vs  the  wise  man,  "is  a.  tree 
of  life."  Wholesome  is  a  good  word.  The  "restless  evil 
full  of  deadly  poison,"  which  is  James's  label  for  an  un- 
sanctified  tongue,  finds  its  exact  antithesis  in  this  word  of 
the  proverb.  A  wholesome  tongue  is  one  whose  speech  is 
not  corrupting  nor  irritating,  but  full  of  nourishment  and 
helpfulness  —  sound  and  sweet  and  salutary;  such  a  tongue 
is  a  tree  of  life.  Wise  words  proceed  from  it  as  naturally 
as  the  leaves  grow  upon  the  branches  ;  beautiful  and  fitting 
words  adorn  it  as  the  blossoms  adorn  the  tree  ;  and  the 
fruit  of  the  lips  not  only  gratifies  but  strengthens  the 
hearts  of  all  those  who  seek  to  do  God's  will.  A  tree 
of  life ;  a  shelter,  and  a  shadow  from  the  heat  of  scorn  and 
obloquy,  when  the  blast  of  the  terrible  ones  is  as  a  storm 
against  the  wall ;  a  living  source  of  comfort  and  refresh- 
ment and  beaut}'  and  blessing  —  such  is  the  sanctified 
speech  of  the  wholesome  tongue. 

1.  The  tamed  tongue  is  trained  for  service.  All  things 
that  are  tamed  are  tamed  for  the  service  of  man  ;  and  the 
tongue  follows  this  law.  And  when  the  tongue  is  thor- 
oughly tamed,  when  it  ceases  to  be  a  reckless  and  lawless 
member,  and  becomes  subordinate  to  the  mind  and  will  of 
man,  it  becomes  a  most  helpful  servant.  It  is  by  speech 
that  many  of  our  best  gains  are  made.  A  large  part  of  the 
good  that  we  receive  comes  to  us  in  conversation.  Opinions 
are  formed  in  .  this  way ;  knowledge  is  acquired,  good 
impulses  are  received,  we  are  stimulated  and  cheered  and 
comforted  by  our  conversation.  By  conversation,  I  say  ; 
for  it  is  the  interchange  of  thought  that  is  most  valuable  to 
us  ;  the  talk  in  which  we  give  while  we  receive ;  the  com- 
merce of  speech,  in  which  we  are  not  merely  passive,  to  be 


IIJ^  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

lectured  to  or  preached  at,  but  active,  imparting  while  we 
receive ;  questioning,  turning  the  thought  about  so  that  it 
may  strike  our  minds  at  the  right  angle  of  vision.  The 
conversation  of  the  teachable  and  honest  mind  is  full  of 
profit.  When  your  tongue  is  rightly  trained,  it  will  be  a 
most  diligent  purveyor  of  knowledge.  Of  the  fine  art  of 
questioning,  it  soon  makes  itself  master.  Jesus  approved 
himself  to  the  doctors  in  the  temple  by  hearing  and  asking 
questions.  It  was  because  of  this,  I  suppose,  that  he  grew 
in  favor  with  men.  He  was  always  learning ;  always 
modestly  and  earnestly  inquiring  into  the  truth  of  things. 
There  is,  of  course,  a  troublesome  and  impertinent  in- 
quisitiveness,  which  we  must  all  avoid  ;  but  the  habit  of 
taking  toll  of  every  mind  that  travels  yolir  way,  is  a  most 
useful  and  commendable  habit.  And  if  your  questions  are 
asked  with  becoming  modesty  and  deference,  and  if  they 
show  you  to  be  not  a  mere  fidgety  quidnunc,  but  an  honest 
learner,  you  will  generally  find  people  ready  and  glad  to 
communicate  to  you  what  they  know.  With  the  exception 
of  a  few  persons  whose  business  it  is  to  answer  questions  — 
such  as  policemen,  hotel  clerks,  and  railway  conductors,  I 
think  that  human  beings  like  to  answer  respectful  and 
proper  questions.  It  is  a  positive  satisfaction  to  most  of  us 
to  communicate  truth  to  those  who  are  seeking  truth.  And 
thus,  without  imposing  in  any  wise  upon  our  neighbors,  we 
may  make  the  docile  tongue  serve  us  well  in  gathering  for 
ourselves  the  knowledge  that  shall  guide  our  conduct  and 
give  us  food  for  many  pleasant  thoughts. 

2.  The  tongue  will  serve  our  own  needs  in  quite 
another  way.  The  reaction  upon  our  own  minds  of  truth 
which  we  have  expressed,  of  worthy  purposes  or  sentiments 


THE     TAMED     TONGUE.  115 

which  we  have  avowed,  is  most  beneficent.  We  fix  our 
thoughts  by  putting  them  into  words  and  uttering  them. 
Whether  a  man  really  knows  anything  that  he  has  never 
expressed  may  be  an  open  question.  "I  know  it  but  I  can't 
tell  it,"  is  a  common  excuse  of  dull  or  lazy  pupils  —  an 
excuse  which  intelligent  teachers  are  never  ready  to  accept. 
What  we  know  we  generally  can  say;  but  the  saying  of  it 
greatly  strengthens  our  hold  upon  it.  Thus  the  trained 
tongue  serves  not  only  as  the  purveyor  of  knowledge  but 
as  the  organizer  of  knowledge  —  as  the  agent  by  which  our 
mental  acquisitions  are  set  in  order  and  fastened  in  the 
memory. 

The   wise    and    temperate   utterance    of    manly    feeling 
reacts  in  the  same  way  upon  ourselves.     We  saw  that  the 
untamed  tongue,  by  its  intemperate  and  passionate  utter- 
ances,   often    serves   to    commit   us   to    evil    ways;    in    his 
passion  a  n)an  says  a  thing,  and,  though  his  judgment  does 
not  approve  of  it,  he  resolves  to  stand  by  it,  and  is  thus 
plunged  into  conduct  that   is    harmful  and  ruinous.      But 
the  hearty  utterance  of  a  right  thought  or  a  right  sentiment 
reacts  in  the  same  way  upon  the  man.      The  value  of  the 
truth,  the  excellence  of  the  sentiment,  are  impressed  upon 
his  own  mind  when   he  speaks  them  ;    a  truth  declared  is 
better  worth  fighting  for  than  a  truth  unuttered  ;  and  thus 
the  tongue  is  often  a  means  of  committing  us  stronglv  to 
honest    pursuits    and     worthy    ways    of    living.       This,    1 
suppose,  is  one  reason  why  confession  of  the  mouth  is  so 
strongly  emi)hasized  as  one  of  the  conditions  of  salvation. 
These  then  are  some  of  the  ways  in  which  disciplined 
and  sanctified  speech  becomes  a  means  of  self-improvement. 
Hut  it  is  not  only  a  purveyor:  it  is  a  minister.     It  not  onlv 


116  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

serves  us  royall}^ ;  it  helps  us  to  serve  our  fellow  men. 
Untamed,  the  tongue  is  a  source  of  endless  mischief  and 
injury  to  others;  tamed,  it  may  be  an  instrument  of 
uncounted  blessings  to  them,  as  well  as  to  us. 

3.  It  is,  and  always  will  be,  one  of  the  most  effective 
agencies  in  communicating  truth.  The  printed  word  plays 
a  part  in  the  education  of  mankind  now  far  greater  than 
ever  could  have  been  imagined  one  thousand  years  ago ;  far 
greater  than  ever  was  dreamed  even  one  hundred  years  ago ; 
a  very  large  share  of  all  the  knowledge  that  we  gain  comes 
through  our  eyes  from  the  printed  page  or  column ;  but 
after  all,  written  instruction  will  never  supersede  oral 
instruction.  The  tongue  will  always  have  a  function,  and  a 
large  one,  in  the  communication  of  truth.  Many  things 
can  be  said  much  more  clearly,  much  more  impressively- 
than  they  can  be  communicated  in  writing.  Shades  of 
meaning  can  be  conveyed  by  the  lips  that  the  types  cannot 
suggest ;  and  the  freshness  of  life  and  the  warmth  and 
vitality  and  tenderness  of  love  which  spoken  words  often 
reveal  can  be  but  poorly  transferred  to  paper.  There  must 
therefore  always  be  much  oral  teaching;  much  that  is 
professional  and  functional,  indeed.  The  trained  and  fluent 
tongue  plays  not  now  so  large  a  part  as  once  it  did  in 
instruction  and  persuasion,  bat  it  has  not  yet  passed  out  of 
use,  nor  will  it  very  soon.  I  find  that  the  teaching  of  the 
colleges  is  more  and  more  taking  the  form  of  lectures. 

But  it  is  not  only  the  professional  talkers  and  teachers 
who  convey  truth  in  wise  and  helpful  speech.  In  conversa- 
tion, as  I  have  said  already,  it  is  freely  communicated.  I 
am  now  only  giving  the  converse  of  the  ^proposition  I  was 
urging  a  little  while   ago,  when   I  tried  to   show  how  we 


THE     TAMED     TONGUE.  117 

might  learn  truth  through  conversation.  What  we  have 
learned  in  this  way  we  may  also  teach  in  this  way.  And 
without  pedantry,  or  u88um]ition  of  superior  wisdom,  or 
any  other  offensive  display,  we  may  often  in  our  conversa- 
tion with  others  greatly  aid  them  in  acquiring  knowledge. 

The  art  of  questioning  is  not  only  adapted  to  the 
gaining  of  knowledge,  but  to  the  imparting  of  it  also. 
Nobody,  save  the  divine  Master,  ever  taught  so  well  as 
Socrates ;  and  nobody  else  ever  asked  half  so  many 
questions.  A  question  may  awaken  much  thought,  may 
start  an  active  mind  upon  a  wide  range  of  profitable  inves- 
tigation. A  pertinent  connnent,  a  wise  reflection,  a  remark 
that  stimulates  observation,  may  fall  like  a  fruitful  seed 
into  the  good  soil  of  some  listening  mind  and  bring  forth 
an  abundant  harvest. 

4.  Not  onl}^  the  mental  improvement  t)f  others  but 
their  moral  invigoration  may  be  most  effectually  promoted 
by  sanctified  speech.  This  is  the  precise  doctrine  of  our  text 
—  "The  wholesome  tongue  is  a  tree  of  life.''  "The  tongue 
of  the  wise,"  says  Solomon  again,  "is  health.''  It  is  in  the 
moral  effects  of  earnest  and  gracious  speech  that  we  see  its 
chief  advantage  over  other  forms  of  communication.  Here 
again  I  am  showing  the  reverse  of  the  picture  that  I  first 
presented  ;  for  if  we  receive  good  influences  through  con- 
versation, then  we  may  im})art  good  influences  in  that  way. 
And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  greater  part  of  the  moral  and 
religious  influence  that  is  exerted  in  the  world  passes  from 
one  soul  to  another  in  tlie  form  of  familiar  talk.  The  words 
of  the  parents  in  their  conversations  with  their  children ; 
the  daily  talk  of  the  nursery  or  the  table  or  around  the 
evening  lamp ;   the  more  intimate  and  earnest  conferences 


118  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

about  grave  matters  of  life  and  conduct  —  these  are  the 
forces  that  shape  character.  I  suppose  that  most  of  us,  if 
we  could  trace  the  influences  that  have  helped  most  to  form 
our  habits  and  fix  our  principles,  would  discover  that  the 
most  numerous  and  effectual  of  these  were  words  dropped 
in  familiar  or  even  casual  conversation  with  those  whom  we 
trusted  and  honored.  A  complete  change  in  plans  and 
ideals  of  life  is  often  brought  about  by  such  an  unpremedi- 
tated utterance.  A  school-boy  says  a  manly  word  in  favor 
of  doing  right  to  one  of  his  companions,  and  the  impulse 
goes  home  to  the  heart  of  the  one  who  hears  it,  and  braces 
him  for  better  choices  in  a  critical  period  of  life.  An 
employer  says  a  friendly  word  to  one  of  his  work-people, 
and  the  word  with  its  truth  and  reasonableness  falls  into 
the  life  and  proves  a  conserving  and  constructive  influence 
as  long  as  the  man  lives.  Of  the  good  that  is  done  in  this 
manner,  quietly,  through  the  utterance  of  words  that  are 
forgotten  by  those  who  speak  them,  eternity  alone  will  be 
the  revealer. 

5.  Not  always,  perhaps,  but  very  often,  we  do  people 
good  by  making  them  happy.  I  am  aware  that  even  in  the 
qualified  form  in  which  I  have  expressed  this  sentiment  it 
will  seem  like  a  fatal  heresy  to  aome  good  people.  There 
are  not  a  few  who  suppose  that  the  only  way  to  do  a  fellow 
being  good  is  to  make  him  miserable.  I  do  not  think, 
however,  that  this  was  our  Lord's  way  of  doing  good. 
Certain  it  is  that  he  made  a  great  many  people  happy  in 
one  way  and  another.  Nobody  else  ever  did  a  tithe  of 
what  he  did  to  make  men  happy.  Wherever  he  went  he 
was  feeding  the  hungry  people,  and  healing  the  sick  ones, 
and  opening  the  eyes  of  the  blind,  and  causing  the  lame  to 


THE     TAMED     TOSGUE.  119 

leap  for  joy.  Many  persons  wish  that  they  could  have 
witnessed  the  working  of  these  miracles ;  if  I  could  see  but 
one,  I  would  rather  see  the  people  after  the  miracles  were 
wrought  than  to  see  the  miracles.  To  have  gone  through 
one  of  those  great  companies  of  men  who  but  a  little  while 
ago  were  walking  in  darkness  or  stumbling  with  paralysis 
or  perishing  with  leprosy  —  and  are  now  all  sound  and 
whole  —  to  see  the  light  in  their  eyes  and  hear  the  exultant 
tones  of  their  voices  —  that  would  have  been  a  goodly  sight. 
And  when  I  think  of  one  of  those  companies  and  realize 
how  many  such  companies  there  were,  and  remember  that 
Jesus  came  not  merely  to  minister  to  the  bodies  of  men  but 
also  to  their  souls,  I  have  pretty  good  evidence  that  he 
believed  in  making  them  happy  as  one  means  of  doing 
their  souls  good.  Now  it  is  certain  that  there  lies  in  kind 
and  winning  words  a  wonderful  power  of  adding  to  the 
happiness  of  our  fellow  men. 

There  is,  to  begin  with,  no  little  pleasure  in  listening  to 
beautiful  words  or  graceful  words.  "The  tongue  of  the  just 
is  choice  silver,"  says  the  wise  man  ;  and  again,  in  similar 
phrase,  "  A  word  fitly  spoken,  how  good  is  it !  It  is  like 
apples  of  gold  in  pictures  of  silver." 

The  artists  in  verse  or  prose  who  discern  the  melody  of 
words  and  know  how  to  order  and  utter  them  so  that  they 
shall  speak  to  the  ear  in  music  —  they  often  give  us  great 
pleasure.  But  it  is  not  the  artists  alone  ;  many  humble  and 
unlettered  people  also  by  the  aptness  or  the  simplicity  or 
the  homely  grace  of  their  speech  give  us  pictures  with 
words  for  colors  that  dwell  long  in  our  memory. 

It  is  not,  however,  through  the  beauty  of  speech,  so 
nmch   as   through   the  kindness  of  it  that  we  impart  and 


120  THINGSi    NEW    AND    OLD. 

receive  the  greatest  happiness.  O  how  much  power  there  is 
in  kind  words  to  soothe,  to  uphft,  to  cheer,  to  bless  the 
souls  of  men  !  How  much  every  one  of  us  can  do  to  make 
this  world  a  better  place  to  live  in,  by  just  having  a  kind 
and  cheery  word  ready  for  every  body  !  Of  course  we  want 
no  treacherous  or  deceitful  words  ;  and  it  is  seldom  that 
these  give  much  pleasure,  for  their  insincerity  is  generally 
apparent  enough  ;  but  when  there  are  kindly  thoughts,  we 
want  the  utterance  of  them  in  friendly  words.  How  many 
such  thoughts  there  are  that  never  find  voice  !  How  often 
we  walk  along  the  streets,  silent,  self-contained,  hardly 
noticing  the  acquaintances  whom  we  meet !  It  is  not  that 
we  do  not  care  for  them ;  we  do ;  it  is  diffidence,  perhaps, 
or  absorption  in  other  thoughts,  that  keeps  us  from  giving 
them  the  greeting  that  would  send  a  ray  of  brightness  into 
their  lives,  and  rob  us  of  nothing.  How  often,  when  our 
social  opportunities  are  ampler,  we  omit  the  chance  of 
uttering  the  generous  or  considerate  word  that  would  add 
greatly  to  the  happiness  of  our  fellow  men.  People  come 
into  church,  sit  near  each  other  in  the  pews,  walk  out  of  the 
aisles  side  by  side  Sunday  after  Sunday,  and  never  say 
a  word  to  each  otlier ;  hardly  nod,  even !  They  seem 
to  feel  that  a  word  of  pleasant  recognition  would  be  a 
profanation  of  the  place  or  of  the  day.  Why,  brethren  and 
sisters,  is  it  not  lawful  to  do  good  on  the  Sabbath  day  ? 
And  is  not  the  speaking  of  a  friendly  word  one  of  the 
simplest  and  easiest  ways  of  doing  good  ?  If  our  church  is 
too  holy  for  such  uses,  we  had  better  burn  it  up  and 
worship  out  of  doors  where  there  will  be  less*  formality. 

I  cannot  undertake  to  point  out  all  the  ways  by  which 
words    can    be   made   to    minister   to   men's   happiness.     I 


THE     TAMED     TONGUE.  121 

might  as  well  undertake  to  point  out  all  the  uses  of  the 
light  in  quickening  or  in  painting  vegetation,  or  to  cata- 
logue all  the  good  that  the  summer  rain  does  in  refreshing 
the  thirsty  earth. 

6.  Quite  anotlier  kind  of  power  resides  in  sanctified 
speech.  It  has  not  only  the  power  to  please,  to  confer 
happiness,  it  has  the  power  also  to  conquer,  to  quell,  to 
subdue.  The  vulgar  notion  is,  no  douVjt,  that  this  sort  of 
power  belongs  to  the  untamed  tongue  ;  that  the  man  who 
rages  and  curses  and  threatens  is  the  kind  of  man  who 
overpowers  opposition  by  his  speech.  But  that  is  a  foolish 
notion.  "A  soft  tongue,"  says  our  wise  man  again,  "break- 
eth  the  bone."  Gentle  words,  quiet  words,  are,  after  all,  the 
most  powerful  words.  They  are  more  convincing,  more 
compelling,  more  prevailing.  There  need  be  no  lack  of 
firmness,  of  positiveness  in  them  ;  they  may  be  just  as 
strong  and  sure  as  the  everlasting  hills,  and  just  as  calm; 
just  as  resistless  as  the  river  and  not  any  noisier.  We 
often  forget  this,  most  of  us ;  but  it  is  true.  Noise,  anger, 
explosive  tones,  superlatives,  exaggerations  of  passion,  add 
nothing  to  the  force  of  what  we  say.  but  rather  rob  our 
words  of  the  power  that  belongs  to  them.  But  the  utterance 
that  shows  a  spirit  subdued  by  truth  and  mastered  by 
wisdom,  is  the  utterance  that  sweeps  away  opposition,  that 
persuades  and  overcomes.  Go  into  a  heated  political 
convention,  and  you  will  find  that  it  is  not  the  men  who 
get  angry  and  storm  and  swear  who  carry  the  day,  but  the 
men  who  never  lose  their  tempers  and  never  raise  their 
voices  ;  who  keep  talking  as  quietly  and  placidly  as  if  they 
were  discussing  the  weather.  This  is  a  truth  that  all  of  us 
who  seek  to  influence   our  fellow  beings,  in  the  family,  in 


THE    LAW  AND  THE  GOSPEL 


Mark    iv:    25. 


"For  lie  tliat  hatli,  to  liim  shall  be  given;   and  lie  iliat  hatli   not,  from 
him  sJtall  be  taken  awai/,  even  that  vhicJi   he  Jiatli.'" 


This  saying  was  more  than  once  repeated  by  onr  Lord, 
and  it  seems  to  have  been  used  to  convey  more  than  one 
lesson.  In  quoting  it  as  a  comment  upon  the  parable 
of  the  pounds,  he  seems  to  teach  that  the  productive  use  of 
a  gift  increases  its  value,  while  the  neglect  of  it  tends  to  its 
diminution  and  final  loss.  By  "  him  that  hath  "  is  meant 
one  who  diligently  uses  the  gifts  and  powers  he  has  ;  and,  as 
a  great  preacher  of  this  generation  has  said,  no  man  can 
truly  be  said  to  have  that  which  he  does  not  use.  Of 
mental  and  spiritual  gifts  this  is  certainly  true.  And  it  is 
not  less  true  of  such  gifts  that  they  are  increased  by  use 
and  diminished  or  lost  by  disuse.  But  this  is  not  the  only 
truth  taught  by  this  suggestive  saying.  It  conveys  to  us  a 
broader  lesson  respecting  the  o{terationH  of  natural  law. 

In  its  form  the  text  is,  of  course,  hyi)erbole.  It  is  a 
paradox  to  talk  of  taking  away  what  he  has  from  a  man 
who  has  nothing.     The  expression  is  the  proverbial  embodi- 


126  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

ment  of  a  great  truth.  No  doubt  it  was  a  proverb,  in 
popular  use  among  the  Jews  at  that  time,  and  quoted  by 
our  Lord  as  a  convenient  expression  of  the  doctrine  that  he 
wished  to  inculcate.  Proverbs  are  often  constructed  on 
this  plan.  Take,  for  an  example,  the  familiar  and  homely 
one,  "The  farthest  way  about  is  the  shortest  way  home." 
This  is  a  perfect  contradiction,  and  yet  we  all  perfectly 
understand  it  as  a  strong  expression  of  the  truth  that  it 
is  often  better  to  go  deliberately  around  difficulties  than  to 
drive  precipitately  over  them.  So  with  man}^  popular  saws 
and  sayings.  They  seem  to  be  the  outcome  of  a  desire  to 
intensify  the  expression,  and  the  speech  sometimes  over- 
leaps itself  and  falls  on  the  side  of  absurdity.  We  under- 
stand their  meaning,  however,  in  spite  of  the  overstate- 
ment ;  we  see  the  intent,  and  allow  for  the  hyperbole.  So 
in  this  text,  we  recognize  the  truth  that  the  Savior  is 
teaching,  interpreting  the  proverl)  by  the  parable;  and 
it  sets  before  us  a  great  two-fold  law  of  increase  and 
decrease  whose  bearing  upon  our  own  lives  we  do  well 
to   study. 

The  tendenc}^  of  gifts,  powers,  possessions  to  accumulate 
in  some  hands  and  dwindle  in  others  is  a  common  fact  of 
observation.  And  it  often  appears,  too,  that  when  accumu- 
lation begins  it  goes  on  by  a  momentum  of  its  own ;  that 
the  farther  it  goes  the  faster  it  goes ;  and  on  the  other  hand 
that  losses  follow  the  same  law ;  disaster  breeds  disaster, 
and  misfortune  multiplies  by  a  geometrical  laAV.  Nothing 
is  so  successful  as  success  ;  nothing  is  so  fatal  as  failure. 

1.  We  see  the  workings  of  this  law  in  the  conditions 
of  our  physical  lives.  Health  and  vigor  have  a  tendency  to 
increase.      The   food  we   eat  builds   up   the   body ;    active 


THE    LAW    AND     THE    GOSPEL.  127 

exercise  confirms  its  strength  ;  the  cold  increases  its  power 
of  endurance;  the  summer  heat  nourishes  its  vitality. 
Nature  brings  constant  revenues  to  the  healthy  man  ;  all 
things  work  together  for  his  good.  On  the  other  hand 
disease  and  physical  feebleness  have  a  tendency  to  increase. 
The  food  that  ought  to  nourish  the  system  irritates  and 
oppresses  it;  exertion  brings  to  the  body  fatigue  and 
enervation;  cold  benumbs  it;  heat  debilitates  it;  nature 
seems  to  be  the  foe  of  feebleness ;  all  things  work  together 
to  prevent  the  recovery  of  health  when  once  it  is  lost ;  often 
it  is  only  by  the  greatest  vigilance  and  patience  that  it  can 
be  regained. 

2.     The  law  that  we  are  considering  is  fulfilled  in  the 
facts  of  the  social  order.     The  man  who  has  station  or  influ- 
ence or  wealth  or  reputation  finds  the  current  flowing  in  his 
favor;    the  man  who  has  none  of  these  things  soon  learns 
that  he  must  stem  the  current.     Poi)ularity  always  follows 
this  law.     It  is  often  remarkable  how  small  a  saying  will 
awaken  the  enthusiasm  of  the  crowd  when  spoken  by  a 
man  who  is  a  recognized  favorite ;  and  how  many  great  and 
wise  utterances  fail  of  producing  any  effect  whatever  when 
he   who    speaks   them    is    comparatively  unknown.     Some- 
times  the  popular    favorites    commit  great    blunders   and 
exhibit  gross  ignorance,  but  these  very  mistakes  are  praised 
by  the  multitude  as  proofs  of  their  superiority.     "He  never 
troubles  himself  about  such  small  matters,"  they  will  say ; 
"  he  has  larger  affairs  on  hand  ! "      The   same  error  com- 
mitted   by    a   less    famous    person    would    expose    him   to 
merciless    ridicule.       Acres   of    platitudes,    and    ream's    of 
vapid  nonsense  are  perpetrated  by  men  who  have  somehow 
gained  fame  — all  of  them   received  with  applause;   while 


128  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

much  that  is  precious  is  ignored  because  it  falls  from  the 
lips  of  men  unknown  to  fame. 

It  is  almost  impossible  for  one  who  has  gained  the 
reputation  of  being  a  wit  to  say  anything  at  which  his 
auditory  will  not  laugh.  His  most  sober  and  commonplace 
speeches  will  often  be  greeted  as  great  witticisms.  On  the 
other  hand  the  purest  wit  and  the  choicest  humor,  if  it 
happen  to  fall  from  the  lips  of  a  }>lain,  matter  of  fact 
individual,  will  often  be  receiyed  with  funereal  gravity  by 
all  who  hear  it. 

On  him  that  hath  jiopularity,  of  any  sort,  society 
bestows  popularity,  and  he  has  more  abundance;  while  to 
him  that  hath  it  not,  society  will  not  give  even  that  which 
he  richly  deserves.  Every  body  wants  to  be  the  friend  of 
the  man  who  has  many  friends ;  comparatively  few  persons 
care  to  show  themselves  friendly  to  those  who  are  alone 
and  desolate.  A  depraved  man  or  woman,  cherishing  in 
secret  many  longings  after  a  purer  life,  meets  daily  with 
averted  faces,  and  suspicious  glances ;  hears  no  words  but 
those  of  distrust  or  reproof,  and  sinks  desparingly  into  still 
lower  depths  of  disgrace.  From  him  that  hath  but  little 
honor  and  respect,  society  takes  away  the  opportunity  and 
the  hope  of  being  honorable  and  respectable  ;  while  to  him 
who  has  these  goodly  possessions  in  abundance,  it  gives 
them  still  more  abundantly. 

3.  So  with  other  things  besides  reputation.  Men  are 
apt  to  bestow  their  help  as  well  as  their  applause  most  freely 
on  those  who  need  it  least.  Those  who  have  gifts  to  bestow 
often  give  them  to  those  who  do  not  want  theni;  passing  by 
those  who  are  suffering  for  the  lack  of  them.  "  The 
destruction    of    the    poor,"    the   wise    man    says,    "  is   his 


THE    LAW    AND     THE    GOSPEL.  129 

poverty."  Because  he  is  poor  he  cannot  get  the  credit,  the 
privilege,  the  favor  that  he  could  get  if  he  were  rich.  The 
narrowness  of  his  resources  crainps  him.  With  larger 
means,  that  would  enable  him  to  take  advantage  of  oppor- 
tunities, he  could  subsist  more  cheaply.  It  costs  him  more 
to  live  because  he  is  poor.  So  circumstances  seem  to 
conspire  against  those  who  are  weakest,  to  help  those  who 
least  need  help  and  to  hinder  those  who  most  need  it. 
And  men,  who  ought  to  be  governed  by  a  better  law,  often 
follow  the  lead  of  circumstances,  and  help  to  kill  off  the 
weak  that  the  strong  may  have  more  room  to  grow. 

The  church  that  has  the  rich  people  is  likely  to  attract 
the  rich  people ;  the  weak  churches  are  often  left  to  their 
own  destruction,  while  those  that  are  strong  financially  are 
strengthened  by  constant  accessions. 

What  is  this  law  that  we  are  studying?  It  is  nothing 
else  than  what  some  philosophers  call  the  law  of  natural 
selection  — the  law  of  the  survival  of  the  fittest;  that  is,  in 
most  cases,  the  strongest.  When  a  tree  is  cut  down  in  the 
forest  a  number  of  sprouts  frequently  spring  up  from  the 
stump,  and  these  grow  together  for  a  while  until  they  begin 
to  crowd  one  another.  There  is  not  room  for  a  dozen  trees 
on  the  ground  where  one  tree  stood;  there  is  only  room  for 
one.  But  it  is  generally  the  case  that  one  of  these  shoots 
growing  from  the  root  of  the  old  tree  is  a  little  larger  than 
the  rest,  and  this  one  gradually  overshadows  the  rest,  takes 
from  the  air  and  the  light  more  nourishment  than  they  can 
get  —  takes  that  which  belongs  to  thfem,  so  that  they 
dwindle  and  die  beneath  its  shadow,  while  its  roots  reach 
out  for  a  firmer  footing  in  the  soil  and  its  branches  stretch 
forth  with  loftier  pride  and  ampler  shade.     Nature  selects 


130  THINOS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

the  strongest  shoot  for  preservation,  and  destroys  the  others 
that  it  may  live. 

We  know  that  man  adopts  this  method  of  selection  in 
all  his  agricultural  operations;  in  the  corn  field  and  in  the 
fruit-nursery  it  is  the  likeliest  growths  that  are  chosen  and 
cultivated  ;  the  others  are  weeded  out  to  make  room  for 
them.  And  the  naturalists  say  that  nature  adopts  this 
method  of  selection  —  does  so  by  a  law  of  her  own  which 
they  try  to  explain ;  that  in  the  struggle  for  life  the  favored 
races  are  preserved ;  and  thus  they  account  for  the 
existence  of  species.  Surely  there  is  something  very  like 
this  law  in  the  order  of  the  physical  and  social  phenomena 
which  we  have  just  been  studying.  The  law  can  be 
verified ;  whether  it  explains  the  origin-  of  species  is  a 
question  not  yet  fully  answered. 

But  some  of  you  are  asking,  "  Is  this  law  of  natural 
selection  God's  law?"  To  this  question  there  is  but  one 
answer.  If  the  law  of  natural  selection  is  the  law  of 
nature,  then  it  is  God's  law.  When  we  study  its  operations 
among  the  lower  orders  of  nature  —  among  plants  and 
animals  —  we  have  no  difficulty  in  admitting  that  it  is 
a  law  that  God  himself  has  ordained.  We  are  certain  that 
God  has  so  ordered  the  natural  world  that  the  hardiest 
plants  and  animals  will  survive  ;  that  they  will  crowd  out 
those  less  vigorous  and  thrive  upon  their  decay.  This  does 
not  trouble  us  at  all  until  we  come  to  the  domain  of 
intelligence  and  morality.  Then  it  seems  hard  and  unjust 
that  to  him  that  hath  more  should  be  given,  while  from  him 
that  hath  not  even  that  he  hath  should  l)e  taken  away  from 
him.  But,  the  question  returns,  Is  not  this  the  very  thing 
that  happens,  all  the  while?     Are  not  the  social  phenomena 


THE     LAW    AXD     THE    GOSPEL.  131 

that  we  have  been  studying  the  constant  facts  of  social 
life?  Is  it  not  true  that  the  fame  of  the  famous  man,  and 
the  obscurity  of  the  unknown  man  tend  to  increase ;  that 
the  rich  man's  wealth  tends  to  accumulate,  while  the  poor 
man's  poverty  tends  to  become  chronic  and  permanent?  Is 
not  this  the  state  of  things  that  we  are  all  the  while 
witnessing?  If  such  is  the  general  rule,  then  we  know  that 
it  results  from  a  condition  of  things  which  God  has 
ordained.  If  it  is  a  social  law,  it  is  a  law  of  God,  for 
all  the  social  laws  are  God's  laws. 

We  must  distinguish  here,  however,  between  different 
meanings  of  the  word  law.  A  law  is  a  rule  of  order  or 
conduct  fixed  by  authority  :  a  law  is  also  a  regular  success- 
ion of  events  :  the  first  is  called  a  moral  law ;  the  second  is 
a  natural  law.  This  law  of  natural  selection  is  a  natural 
law,  and  not  a  moral  law.  We  speak  of  it  as  a  law  in  the 
sense  in  which  we  speak  of  the  law  of  heredity,  or  the  law 
of  gravitation,  or  the  law  of  supply  and  demand.  This  law 
is  announced  by  Christ  but  it  is  not  enjoined  by  him. 
"  This,"  he  says,  "  is  the  way  things  are  :  this  is  the  course 
things  uniformly  take.  The  world  is  so  made,  human 
beings  are  so  constituted,  society  is  so  ordered,  that  accu- 
mulations and  losses  follow  this  rule.  The  order  of  nature 
strengthens  the  strong  and  enfeebles  the  weak.  To  him 
that  hath  is  given  ;  from  him  that  hath  not,  that  which  he 
hath  is  taken  away." 

This  law  of  natural  selection  is  a  law  of  nature,  or- 
dained by  God.  It  is  the  law  under  which  rewards  and 
penalties  are  administered ;  it  is  a  retributive  law,  for  the 
sanctions  of  the  moral  la\v  are  found  in  the  natural  order. 
The  machinery  which  God  has  provided  for  the  punishment 


13Z  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

of  sin  and  the  rewarding  of  virtue,  is  in  the  order  of 
nature. 

But  some  of  you  are  protesting  that  this  cannot  be 
true.  "  How  is  it,"  you  ask,  "that^the  natural  law  of  the 
survival  of  the  strongest  tends  to  the  rewarding  of  the  good 
or  the  punishing  of  the  bad?  By  this  law  it  is  the  strong, 
rather  than  the  good  that  are  rewarded.  It  is  to  those  that 
have,  rather  than  to  those  that  deserve,  that  abundance  is 
given." 

True ;  but  this  is  only  an  illustration  of  the  fact  that  a 
dispensation  of  law  always  works  hardship.  Law  makes 
nothing  perfect ;  it  hurts  some  that  need  help  and  it  heljjs 
some  that  do  not  deserve  it.  Law  must  be  uniform  and 
inflexible  ;  it  cannot  adapt  itself  to  differing  conditions  and 
abilities.  Gravitation  is  a  good  law,  but  it  kills  thousands 
of  innocent  people  every  year.  Yet  it  would  not  do  to  have 
it  less  uniform  and  inflexible  than  it  is.  So  this  law  of 
nature  whose  operations  we  are  studying,  by  which  the 
strong  are  strengthened  and  the  weak  enfeebled,  is  a  good 
law,  on  the  whole,  though  it  does  work  hardship  in  many 
cases ;  for  it  is  better  that  strength  and  vigor  and  health 
should  be  encouraged  and  promoted  ;  we  do  not  want  the 
universe  so  ordered  that  there  should  be  penalties  for 
strength  and  rewards  for  feebleness.  The  universe  is  built 
on  the  basis  of  universal  righteousness  and  health  :  its  laws 
are  all  adapted  to  that  condition  of  things,  and  they  ought 
to  be.  If  all  men  were  good  and  wise  and  strong,  then  this 
law  would  only  tend  to  increase  the  virtue  and  the  wisdom 
and  the  vigor  of  all  men.  It  would  be  seen,  then,  that  this 
is  a  good  law.  But  sin  has  entered  to  enfeeble  and  deprave 
many,  and  the  result  is  that  the  law  which  ought  to  be  a 


THE    LAW    AXD     THE    GOSPEL.  Llf} 

savor  of  lb  unto  life  to  them  becomes  a  savor  of  death 
unto  deatli  The  same  forces  that  ought  to  build  them  up 
tend  to  dftroy  them.  So  it  often  is  that  when  the  law 
enters  otiiaBes  abound,  and  hardships  are  suffered;  under 
its  severe  tnd  inflexible  rule  more  is  given  to  those  who 
have  abuaance  already,  while  those  who  have  but  little  are 
stripped  r  Avhat  they  have. 

Thu:^^"e  see  that  the  natural  law,  which  i.<  the  instru- 
ment of  '3tribution,  inflicts  suflering  and  loss  not  only 
upon  the-^inful,  but  upon  the  weak,  the  unfortunate,  the 
helpless  :  ipon  those  who  have  fallen  behind  in  the  race  of 
life.  Thnis  the  way  the  law  works.  The  law  is  a  messen- 
ger of  wirh  to  many  :  and  when  a  man  is  down,  having 
lost  his  smding  and  his  reputation  and  his  friends  and  his 
hope  au'lliis  moral  stamina,  tliere  is  nothing  in  any  law 
that  will  o  anything  for  him.  To  such  unfortunates  law  is 
no  friem'i  The  one  thing  that  law  cannot  do  is  to  lift  up  a 
man  thac.as  fallen  under  its  severities. 

Nowemember  that  it  is  the  law  that  Christ  is  declar- 
ing in  thiwords  of  the  text. 

But  miember  also  that  there  is  something  better  and 
diviner  tim  law  in  the  tidings  that  he  has  brought  us. 
What  thlaw  could  not  do  he  came  to  do.  It  was  for  the 
deliverane  and  the  relief  of  those  who  are  being  pushed  to 
the  wall  r  the  operation  of  these  retributive  forces  that  he 
came. 

His  ife  proves  this.  He  did  not  fall  into  that  social 
order  thii-vve  have  seen  prevailing.  He  did  not  bestow  his 
praise  upn  the  famous,  nor  his  friendship^on  the  popular, 
nor  his  enefactions  on  the  rich.  His  words  of  applause 
greeted :te  saints  who  in  obscurity  tried  to  live  virtuously; 


13 Jf  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

he  was  the  friend  of  pubHcans  and  sinners  ;  he  was  the 
constant  helper  of  the  poor.  It  was  not  to  those  who  had 
abundance  that  he  gave,  but  to  those  who  had  nothing.  So, 
in  regard  to  the  more  precious  things  of  character.  "  They 
that  be  whole,"  he  says,  "  need  not  a  physician,  but  they 
that  are  sick.  I  came  not  to  call  the  righteous,  but  sinners 
to  repentance." 

This  is  the  gospel  of  Christ.  This  is  the  meaning  of 
the  incarnation  and  the  sacrifice  of  the  Redeemer.  The 
law  works  injury  and  destruction  to  all  who  do  evil  and  to 
many  who  have  never  themselves  done  any  evil,  but  who 
have  come  into  the  world  in  a  disabled  condition  through 
the  sins  of  others.  Christ  comes  to  take  the  part  of  all 
these.  They  are  morally  helpless,  l)Ut"  he  will  help  them ; 
sin  has  abounded  in  them,  and  wrought  ruin  in  them ;  but 
grace,  if  the}'  will  receive  it,  shall  much  more  abound.  He 
can  repair  the  ruin  that  sin  has  wrought.  He  will  give 
these  defeated  and  prostrate  souls  another  chance.  The 
law  of  the  spirit  of  life  that  is  in  him  shall  make  them  free 
from  the  law  of  sin  and  death. 

The  world  is  against  them  ;  all  its  social  laws  and 
usages  join  to  crush  them  ;  but  "  Be  of  good  cheer,"  he  bids 
them  :    "  I  have  overcome  the  world  !  " 

Nature  is  against  them ;  their  own  natures  are  infirm 
and  corrupt;  their  appetites  entice  them;  their  selfish  de- 
sires mislead  them  ;  but  he  assures  them  that  by  faith  in 
him  they  may  be  made  partakers  of  the  divine  nature,  and 
thus  be  reinforced  and  invigorated  for  (conflict  with  the  evil. 
And  thus,  though  they  feel  that  they  are  empty  and  desti- 
tute of  all   good,  that  in  very  deed  the}'  have  nothing,  he 


THE    LAM'    AND     THE    GOSPEL.  135 

brings  to  them  abundant  supplies  of  grace ;  when  they 
receive  him,  all  things  are  theirs  ! 

And,  mark  you,  in  doing  all  this  he  does  not  destroy 
but  fulfils  the  law.  The  law  contemplates  and  requires 
health,  prosperity,  moral  soundness  ;  and  so  long  as  these 
are  preserved  the  law  is  a  minister  of  good  to  men.  It 
expects  that  all  men  will  hare  all  the  real  good  of  life, 
which  their  Creator  has  provided  for  them  ;  but  for  diso- 
bedience and  transgression  all  men  would  have  all  the  real 
good  of  life,  and  to  them  that  have  the  law  gives ;  it 
enriches  and  blesses  them  abundantly.  And  what  Christ 
does  is  to  give  the  real  good  of  life,  the  moral  strength  and 
soundness  which  are  the  source  of  all  life's  real  good,  to 
those  who  have  nothing — who  are  so  reduced  in  moral 
vigor  that  they  are  practically  destitute  ;  to  restore  to  them 
that  which  thev  have  lost,  so  that  thev  shall  have ;  and  then 
this  law  is  a  minister  of  good  to  them  as  God  meant  it  to 
be  to  all. 

Here  is  a  vine  that  has  fallen  from  its  trellis,  and 
that  is  being  choked  by  the  weeds  that  have  overgrown  it, 
as  it  lies  prostrate  on  the  earth.  The  law  of  nature,  the 
law  of  vegetable  growth,  is  only  operating  to  destroy  it  so 
long  as  it  remains  in  this  condition  ;  for  the  sun  and  the 
showers  nourish  the  weeds,  and  they  overshadow  the  vine 
more  and  more,  preventing  its  growth,  and  drawing  away 
the  strength  from  the  soil.  But  the  gardener  lifts  up  the 
vine  and  fastens  it  to  the  trellis,  and  pulls  up  the  Aveeds 
that  are  stealing  its  nutriment,  and  then  the  laws  of  nature 
promote  the  growth  of  the  vine ;  the  same  laws  under 
which  its  life  was  being  destroyed  now  confirm  its  life  and 
increase  its  growth.     Some  such  service  as  this  Christ  ren- 


1S6  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

ders  to  all  those  who  are  morally  weak  and  helpless ;  by  the 
communication  to  them  of  his  own  life  he  lifts  them  out  of 
their  helplessness  into  a  condition  in  which  all  things  that 
were  working  together  against  them  shall  work  together  for 
their  good. 

It  will  be  well  for  us  all  to  remember  that  if  we  are 
Christians,  we  are  co-workers  with  Christ,  and  that  our 
Ijusiness,  therefore,  is  not  to  add  force  to  the  law  whose 
severities  bear  so  heavily  upon  many  of  our  fellow  men,  but 
to  counteract  the  severities  of  the  law  b_v  ministries  of 
sympathy  and  tenderness  and  help.  It  is  not  for  us  to  take 
away  from  those  that  have  nothing  even  that  which  they 
have  ;  to  strip  a  fellow  being  who  is  in  disgrace  of  the  last 
shred  of  his  reputation  ;  to  give  all  our  applause  to  those 
that  are  famous  and  all  our  scorn  to  those  that  are  obscure 
and  unfortunate  ;  to  trample  on  those  who  have  fallen  and 
make  the  portion  of  the  poor  and  the  sinful  still  more 
forlorn  than  it  already  is.  Circumstances  may  work 
against  them  in  this  way,  but  we  are  not  circumstances, 
and  we  are  not  called  on  to  aid  and  abet  circumstances  in 
this  destructive  work.  The  laws  of  nature,  and  of  a  de- 
praved and  selfish  human  nature  may  work  together 
against  the  weak  and  the  sinful ;  but  there  is  a  higher  law 
than  the  law  of  nature  for  us  to  obey,  and  that  is  the  law  of 
Christ,  which  is  the  law  of  love.  Our  work  is  to  raise  the 
fallen,  to  succor  the  unfortunate,  to  deliver  the  helpless 
from  the  pit  into  which  they  are  sinking.  Our  work  is  to 
temper,  so  far  as  we  can  by  our  good  will,  the  fierce  laws  of 
trade  that  often  work  hardship  to  the  poor^  and  to  rectify 
the  social  standards  by  which  misfortune  is  punished  as 
sin,  and  no   space  is  given  for  repentance  to  one  who  has 


THE    LAW    AND     THE    GOSPEL.  137 

once  committed  an  error.  Our  great  business  is  to  infuse 
the  Christian  spirit  into  all  the  laws  and  customs  and 
usages  of  our  civilization,  and  to  inspire  with  the  Christian 
hope  the  victims  of  disaster  or  of  sin. 

And  if  there  are  any  here  who  sometimes  feel  that  they 
have  very  little,  and  that  the  forces  that  hem  them  in  are 
conspiring  to  take  from  them  what  they  have ;  that  things 
seem  to  work  against  them  all  the  while,  —  especiall}' that 
they  are  steadily  losing  moral  strength  and  soundness,  and 
that  the  events  of  life,  its  trials  and  its  blessings,  its  mis- 
fortuiies  and  its  good  fortunes,  rather  tend  to  stimulate 
their  selfishness  and  to  strengthen  their  evil  passions — if 
there  are  any  who  are  conscious  of  the  working  in  their 
natures  of  this  element  of  decay,  let  them  remember  that 
the  law  of  the  spirit  of  life  in  Christ  Jesus  makes  us  free 
from  the  law  of  sin  and  death.  If  they  are  morally  weak 
and  helpless,  they  are  the  very  ones  that  Christ  came  to 
save.  The  law  can  do  nothing  for  them,  but  the  Lord  of  life 
can  do  everything.  It  is  the  destitute  that  he  came  to  en- 
rich ;  it  is  the  sick  that  he  came  to  heal ;  it  is  the  hungry 
that  he  came  to  feed  ;  it  is  the  poor  in  spirit  to  whom  he 
promises  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.  He  is  the  one  who 
above  all  others  fills  the  measure  of  the  prophet's  wonder- 
ful words  :  "  For  thou  hast  been  a  strength  to  the  poor,  a 
strength  to  the  needy  in  his  distress,  a  refuge  from  the 
storm,  a  shadow  from  the  heat  when  the  blast  of  the 
terrible  ones  is  as  a  storm  against  the  wall."  If  they  will 
but  lay  hold  upon  his  strength,  and  trust  in  his  abound- 
ing grace,  they  who  have  nothing  will  soon  find  themselves 
possessing  all  things. 


HOW   MUCH   IS  HE  WORTH? 


Isaiah   xiii:    12. 

"/  will  make  a  man  more  precious  than    fine  gold;  even  a  man  than 
the  golden  wedge  of  Ophir." 

The  text  is  part  of  a  prediction  in  which  the  prophet 
foretells  the  desolations  that  are  to  befall  Babylon.  "There- 
fore, saith  the  Lord,  I  will  shake  the  heavens  and  the  earth 
shall  remove  out  of  his  place  in  the  wrath  of  the  Lord  of 
hosts,  and  in  the  day  of  his  fierce  anger.  And  it  shall  be 
as  the  chased  roe  and  as  the  sheep  that  no  man  taketh  up; 
they  shall  turn  every  man  unto  his  own  people,  and  flee 
every  one  unto  his  own  land.  Every  one  that  is  found 
shall  be  thrust  through,  and  every  one  that  is  joined  unto 
them  shall  fall  by  the  sword."  So  great  is  to  be  the 
slaughter  among  the  Chaldeans,  that  men  shall  become  as 
scarce  in  the  land  as  nuggets  of  gold. 

Doubtless  this  is  the  first  idea  suggested  by  the 
prophet's  bold  figure — -the  great  scarcity  of  men  in  the 
land  after  the  devastating  war  which  he  announces.  But, 
doubtless,  there  is  also  connected  with  this  the  economical 
suggestion,  that  the  value  of  men  would  be  enhanced  by 


IJ^O  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

their  scarcity.  Rare  things  are  commonly  precious  things. 
Men  would  l)e  too  precious  to  be  purchased  with  gold,  on 
account  of  their  scarcity.  Probably  it  is  not  true  that 
human  life  is  held  more  dear  in  times  of  Avar ;  the  contrary 
is  true.  Men  become  so  accustomed  to  the  sacrifice  of  life 
that  they  witness  its  destruction  with  a  strange  indiffer- 
ence ;  but  some  sense  of  the  value  of  the  lives  sacrificed  is 
apt  to  dawn  upon  the  people  after  the  war  is  over,  wdien  the 
nation  finds  its  resources  wasted,  and  the  people  sit 
desolate  in  their  homes,  waiting  for  the  strong  and  the 
brave  who  shall  return  no  more.  It  is  a  hard  school 
in  which  to  learn  this  lesson  of  the  preciousness  of  man; 
but  if  it  can  be  learned  in  no  other  way  it  may  well  be 
enforced  upon  the  world,  even  by  such  fiery  tuition. 

One  who  listens  to  the  talk  of  the  street  and  the  shops, 
might  easily  get  the  impression  that  the  value  of  man  is 
a  subject  of  general  interest.  "  How  much  is  he  worth?  "  is 
a  question  often  heard.  Tradesmen  and  money-lentlers  are 
asking  it  with  a  mercenary  accent ;  neighbors  and  gossips 
with  perennial  curiositv.  How  much  is  he  worth,  indeed? 
It  is  a  momentous  (juestion.  What  answers  do  you  hear? 
He  is  worth  five  thousand  dollars  ;  ten  thousand  ;  a  million, 
ten  millions  :  such  -are  the  estimates.  And  of  one  and 
another  it  is  said  with  a  mixture  of  pity  and  contem))t, 
"  He  is  not  worth  anything ! "  We  all  understand  the 
meaning  of  the  familiar  phrase  and  know  what  a  distorted 
sense  it  gives  to  the  word  worth.  Probably  we  all  use  the 
phrase  innocently  enough  ;  yet  it  sounds,  after  all,  a  little 
strange,  when  we  pause  to  listen  t<i  it.  "How  much  is  he 
worth?"  "One  hundred  thousand  dollars."  Shall  we 
estimate  the  value  of  a  man    in   dollars?     Before  the  war 


now     MICH    IS    HE     WORTH  f  1^1 

men  and  women  were  actually  bouglit  and  sold  for  money. 
How  much  is  he  or  she  worth,  was  then  in  some  quarters  a 
question  simply  commercial ;  a  question  to  which  a  per- 
fectly literal  answer  could  l)e  eiven.  Of  course  it  is  not  in 
this  sense  that  we  employ  the  phrase.  It  is  a  figure  of 
speech  as  we  use  it ;  and  whether  it  is  metonymy  or 
synecdoche,  I  leave  the  students  of  rhetoric  to  tell. 
Perhaps  you  cannot  rightly  name  the  figure  until  you  know 
the  thought  in  the  mind  of  him  who  speaks  it.  The 
association  of  ideas  is  between  the  man  and  his  posses- 
sions; when  we  ask  how  much  he  is  worth,  we  wish  to 
know  how  much  his  estate  is  worth  ;  we  put  the  man  for 
the  estate.  The  tigure  gives  a  vicious  twist  to  language  ;  it 
seems  to  merge  the  man  in  his  belongings  ;  it  hammers  in, 
by  its  incessant  iteration,  a  notion  that  we  are  all  quite  too 
willing  to  entertain.     Pope's  often  quoted  line, 

"Worth  makes  the  man,  the  want  of  it  the  fellow," 

is  sound  doctrine,  vastly  sounder  than  much  that  this 
verse-maker  preached  ;  but  our  common  question  seems  to 
imply  tliat  it  is  not  w^orth.  but  money's-worth  that  makes 
the  man ;  that  worthless  and  moneyless  are  synonyms. 
May  it  not  be  well  to  go  a  little  deeper  than  the  common 
usage  goes  into  the  meaning  of  this  phrase,  and  ask,  with 
all  seriousness,  not  concerning  this  man  or  that  man,  but 
concerning  man,  any  man,  every  man,  ''How  much  is 
he  worth?  " 

Questions  of  value  are  apt  to  be  questions  of  com- 
parison. The  oi)ject  whose  value  is  inquired  about  is 
compared  with  some  other  object.  ''How  much  is  the 
house  or  the  horse  worth?"     So  manv  dollars,  vou  answer. 


1^2  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

The  dollar  is  tlie  standard  of  value.  If  there  were  no 
circulating  medium,  articles  would  be  exchanged  one 
against  another ;  a  bushel  of  wheat  would  l)e  worth  so 
many  yards  of  calico;  a  ton  of  coal  would  be  worth 
so  many  days'  laVjor.  Value,  as  we  conceive  it,  results  from 
comparison  of  exchangeable  objects.  We  will  not  go  into 
the  question  of  absolute  value,  but  we  will  make  use  of 
this  tigure  of  comparison  in  trying  to  determine  the  value 
of  man. 

1.  Man  is  worth  more  than  his  institutions.  This  has 
not  always  been  the  received  doctrine.  Many  persons  have 
supposed  that  the  chief  end  of  man  was  to  support  certain 
institutions.  We  get  many  a  hint  of  this  error  in  our 
study  of  the  people  whose  history  is  contained  in  the 
Bible.  They  thought  that  their  ceremonial  law  was  vastly 
more  sacred  than  the  men  who  worshipped  by  means  of  it. 
If  their  ritual  obstructed  human  growth,  crippled  virtue  or 
killed  charity,  no  matter;  these  must  stand  liack  and  let 
the  ritual  be  exalted.  And  when  Christ  told  them  that  the 
sabbath  was  made  for  man  and  not  man  for  the  sabbath  — 
that  men  were  of  more  account  than  all  this  ritual 
machinery,  they  were  astonished  and  scandalized ;  they 
called  him  a  blasphemer. 

This  is  no  singular  phenomenon.  History  is  full  of 
the  outworking  of  this  tendency.  All  over  the  world,  all 
along  the  ages,  men  have  been  made  the  the  slaves  of 
systems.  Rites  and  forms  and  ceremonies  and  doctrines 
have  been  lifted  up  and  men  have  been  made  to  prostrate 
themselves  before  them.  The  problem  of  the  religionist 
generally  has"  been,  not  how  to  make  his  religion  service- 
able to  men,  but  how  to  bring  the  most  men  under  the  sway 


innv    MI'rH    rs    IfE     WORT  II.'  IJfS 

of  his  religion.  The  crowds  of  converts  were  his  trophies, 
signs  of  the  victory  of  liis  faith,  to  grace  its  triumph  as  it 
moved  on  to  universal  dominion. 

When  Christ  came  his  teachings  were  so  entirely-  out 
of  harmony  with  this  notion,  that  the  people  were  fairly 
hewildered  l)y  them.  Listen  to  this  first  announcement  of 
his  mission,  made  in  words  which  he  quoted  from  one 
of  the  old  pro{)hets  in  the  synagogue  of  his  native  village  : 
"The  Spirit  of  the  Tvord  is  upon  me,  because  he  hath 
anointed  me  to  preach  the  gospel  to  the  i)Oor ;  he  hath  sent 
me  to  heal  the  broken  hearted  ;  to  preach  deliverance  to  the 
captives  and  recovery  of  sight  to  the  blind  ;  to  set  at  liberty 
them  that  are  bruised  ;  to  preach  the  acceptable  year  of  the 
Loi'd."  Here  is  promise  of  a  religion  that  has  no  higher 
object  than  to  benefit  mankind  ;  a  religion  that  addresses 
itself  immediately  to  the  task  of  alleviating  all  human 
woes  and  ministering  to  all  human  needs.  No  wonder  that 
when  the  Founder  of  this  religion  spoke  the  common 
l)eo))le  heard  him  gladly.  In  his  eye  man  was  of  supreme 
worth  ;  man  was  of  far  more  account  than  the  most  august 
and  sacred  of  his  institutions. 

What  has  been  said  of  religious  systems  is  equally 
true  of  political  systems.  Man  is  of  greater  value  than 
these;  but  there  have  always  been  those  who  sought  to 
make  him  subordinate  to  tliem.  There  is  now,  and  always 
has  been  a  prevalent  notion,  that  people  were  made  for 
governments,  and  not  governments  for  the  people  ;  that  it 
is  more  important  that  certain  dynasties  should  reign,  or 
that  certain  political  institutions  should  be  kept  intact, 
or  that  certain  parties  should  remain  in  power,  or  that 
certain  policies  should  be  adopted,  than  that  men  should  be 


IJ^  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

free  and  wise  and  good  and  prosperous.  There  is  many  a 
courtier  who  thinks  that  the  people  were  made  to  be  ruled 
and  robbed  by  the  despot  on  the  throne ;  there  is  many  a 
partisan  who  cares  more  for  the  success  of  his  party  than 
for  the  welfare  of  the  people ;  there  is  many  a  reformer,  so 
called,  who  would  rather  see  men  debauched  and  ruined  by 
thousands  than  to  see  them  saved  by  any  other  methods 
than  those  which  he  advocates.  So  prone  are  human 
beings  to  make  idols  of  their  own  schemes  or  contrivances, 
and  to  ofl'er  their  fellow  men  as  sacrifi(;es  to  the  gods  that 
their  own  hands  have  made. 

It  is  not  true  that  human  institutions  are  of  no  value  ; 
they  are  often  of  great  value.  They  are  indispensable  to 
human  life  and  progress.  Institutiorts  of  religion  are 
necessary ;  so  are  institutions  of  government.  But  they 
are  not  ends ;  they  are  instruments.  Those  words  of 
Christ  before  quoted — -"The  sabbath  was  made  for  man 
and  not  man  for  the  sabbath"  —  are  a  specific  statement 
of  a  general  truth,  namely,  that  all  social,  political  and 
religious  institutions  were  made  for  man,  and  not  man  for 
his  institutions.  These  great  organic  systems  of  religion 
and  government  may  well  be  likened  to  garments,  intended 
for  the  protection  and  comfort  of  man  ;  and  the  mistake  of 
politicians  and  ecclesiastics  is  simply  in  supposing  that 
man  is  nothing  but  a  lay-figure  on  which  to  display  the 
fine  fabrics  of  religion  and  government. 

If  what  we  have  said  is  true,  it  follows  that  those 
systems  are  best  which  best  assist  the  development  of  man- 
hood. Find  out  what  kind  of  men  they  produce,  and  you 
have  found  out  exactly  what  they  are  worth.  If  the  men 
who  live  under  them  become  strong,  wise,  self-reliant,  heroic, 


Iinw    MVCH    IS    HE     WORTH  f  lJf5 

benevolent,  the  institutions  are  certainly  good ;  if  they 
become  weak,  cowardly,  superstitious,  selfish,  the  institu- 
tions are  certainly  bad.  Your  religions,  your  governments, 
your  doctrines,  your  rituals,  your  polities,  must  all  be 
judged  by  the  men  who  grow  up  under  them.  Men  are 
more  precious  than  all  this  institutional  machinery,  and 
the  machinery  is  precious  just  in  the  degree  to  which  it 
serves  to  produce  men. 

2.  Man  is  worth  more  than  his  costliest  possessions. 
This  is  another  of  those  truths,  often  on  our  lips,  but  not 
more  than  half  believed.  Evidence  of  this  is  visible  in  the 
respect  paid  to  wealth,  even  when  it  is  joined  to  one  who  is 
but  a  caricature  of  manhood  ;  even  when  it  is  the  spoil  that 
has  been  won  by  the  debasement  of  manhood.  You  see 
men  and  women  thrust  out  of  society  one  day  and  lionized 
the  next,  not  because  any  change  for  the  better  has  taken 
place  in  them,  only  because  their  possessions  have  been 
increased.  It  is  true  that  there  are  some  circles  of  good 
society  into  which  the  passport  must  be  something  better 
than  a  bank  account,  but  these  are  rather  exceptional ;  the 
crowd  is  more  ready  always  to  worship  a  golden  calf  than 
to  honor  a  prophet.  How  plain  are  the  proofs  before  our 
faces  every  day  that  the  multitudes  do  not  believe  a  man  to 
be  more  precious  than  gold  ! 

It  is  not  the  rich  alone  whose  judgment  in  this  matter 
goes  astray  ;  the  poor  fall  into  the  same  error.  They  say 
that  money  does  not  make  the  man,  say  it  angrily  and 
bitterly,  not  seldom;  but  their  conduct  often  shows  that 
they  think,  after  all,  that  money  does  make  the  man. 
Their  envy  of  the  rich  convicts  them.  They  hate  the 
rich    for  possessing  what  the}'  have  not;    the  intensity  of 


lJf6  THrNOS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

their  hatred  shows  how  much  they  valuf  such  possessions. 

Perhaps  we  need  not  look  abroad  for  evidence  that 
character  is  less  valued  than  lucre.  Are  there  not  in  our 
own  conduct,  sometimes,  clear  illustrations  of  this  fact  ? 
Do  we  not  often  find  ourselves  preferring  gold  to  manhood  ; 
laboring  more  diligently  to  enlarge  our  possessions  than  to 
improve  ourselves  ?  Are  we  not  often  more  desirous  of 
having  much  than  of  being  somewhat?  Ah,  brethren, 
shall  we  ever  learn  that  it  is  of  more  consequence  that  our 
minds  should  be  enlarged,  and  our  hearts  purified ;  that  we 
ourselves  should  grow  unto  a  goodly  symmetry  and  a  godly 
manliness  of  character  than  that  we  should  get  any  or  all 
gains  whatsoever? 

It  is  not  true  that  property  is  of  no  consequence;  you 
must  say  of  man's  belongings  exactly  what  you  say  of  his 
institutions  ;  they  are  good,  just  in  proportion  as  they  as- 
sist in  the  development  of  his  character.  Money  may  be 
made  to  minister  to  manhood  :  when  it  does  so  it  is  a 
blessing  to  its  owner  and  to  the  world ;  when  it  does  not,  it 
is  a  curse  to  him,  and  probably  no  blessing  to  anybody. 
Find  out  how  the  man  is  getting  on,  how  the  character  is 
thriving,  and  you  have  found  out  the  real  value  of  his 
wealth.  For  the  piercing  question  is,  after  all,  ''  How  much 
is  he  worth?  " 

Now  and  then  you  find  a  man,  like  the  venerable  Peter 
Cooper,  who  died  not  long  ago  in  New  York,  to  whom 
money  becomes  a  means  of  grace  ;  who  learns  how  to  use  it 
in  such  a  way  as  to  enlarge  and  ennoble  himself  What  a 
happv  life  Peter  Cooper  has  been  living  for  the  last  thirty 
years  !  What  magnificent  returns  he  has  been  getting  on 
his    investments !     Not    to   speak    of    all    the    numberless 


rfo^r  much   ts   he   worth  9  J.^T 

charities  that  have  flowed  unceasingly  from  his  hand,  see 
that  great  Institute  for  the  \A'orking  Classes  that  has  been 
standing  now  for  more  than  a  (juarter  of  a  century;  in 
whose  free  schools  two  or  three  thousand  pupils  are  receiv- 
ing instruction  every  year  in  the  arts  and  the  sciences  ; 
whose  great  free  reading  room  and  library  and  art  galleries 
are  a  source  of  pure  delight  and  l)oundless  lienefit  to 
millions  ;  whose  ample  endowment  will  maintain  it  there  in 
the  ("enter  of  that  great  city  doing  its  beautiful  and  blessed 
work  for  generations  to  come. 

How  much  was  F^eter  Cooper  worth?  If  you  ask  that 
question  with  the  ordinary  meaning,  I  suppose  that  there 
are  some  scores  of  men  in  New  York  whose  estates  are 
larger  than  his  ;  men  who  have  got  their  money,  as  he  never 
did,  by  spoiling  their  neighbors  ;  colossal  highway  robbers, 
some  of  them,  who  plant  themselves  on  the  great  thorough- 
fares of  the  land  and  levy  tribute  on  all  who  pass  over 
them  ;  men  whose  thoughts  of  their  fellow  men  are  mostly 
thoughts  of  pillage,  and  whose  dearest  wishes  for  the  public 
take  tlie  form  of  curses  ;  of  such  men  there  are  several 
whose  estates  are  far  larger  than  Peter  Cooper's  ;  but  how 
much  more  he  was  worth,  after  all,  than  the  richest  of 
them  !  "  The  richest  man  in  New  York,"  one  of  the  papers 
called  him.  Rich  indeed  he  was  in  the  ever  enlarging 
resources  of  a  noble  manhood ;  rich  in  the  gratitude  of  his 
fellow  men  ;  rich  in  the  resources  of  happiness  that  have 
come  to  him,  even  in  this  life,  as  the  fruit  of  his  invest- 
ments, and  that  will  go  on  an<l  on  increasing  and  multiply- 
ing through  the  ages  to  come. 

"What  I  spent  I  had,"  reads  the  old  English  epita]ih  ; 
"  what  I  kept  I  lost ;  what  T  gave  I  have." 


IJfS  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

How  much  there  is  in  it !  "  What  I  spent,"  for  my  own 
pleasure  merely,  "  I  had."  The  momentary  delight  for  a 
moment  was,  and  then  was  not.  "  What  J  kept  I  lost." 
All  that  a  man  keeps  till  he  dies  he  loses  ahsolutely.  The 
moment  his  breath  is  gone  from  his  body  his  power  over  it 
ceases.  He  cannot  take  it  with  him  ;  he  cannot  control  the 
use  of  it.  It  is  as  absolutely  lost  to  him  as  if  it  had  l)een 
swept  away  by  flood  or  flame.  "  What  I  gave  I  have."  If 
the  gift  has  been  judicious  that  is  true.  If  it  has  been 
given  for  the  enriching  of  manhood,  for  the  building  up  of 
character,  that  is  true.  If  you  can  invest  in  a  man  in  such 
a  way  as  to  save  and  strengthen  and  enlarge  the  man,  the 
rrian  will  continue  to  live  ;  your  interest  in  him  will  never 
be  extinguished ;  your  satisfaction  in  the  fruit  that  comes 
from  your  labors  and  your  sacrifices  will  endure  through 
eternitv.  Is  not  Peter  Cooper  alive  to-day  ?  Is  not  the 
monev  that  he  invested  in  the  great  charities  his,  to-day,  in 
the  deepest  and  truest  sense  of  the  word  ?  Is  he  not  get- 
ting, is  he  not  sure  to  get,  for  ages  to  come,  a  glorious 
income  from  those  investments  ?  Think  of  the  tens  of 
thousands  whose  path  has  been  smoothed,  whose  burdens 
lightened,  whose  lives  cheered  by  his  benefactions,  and  who 
will  be  telling  him,  all  down  the  eternities,  the  story  of  their 
gratitude  ?  How  much  is  such  a  man  worth  ?  Count  his 
gains  if  you  can  ;  they  are  beyond  the  reach  of  my  arith- 
metic. 

But  notice  that  it  is  the  man  and  not  the  money  that  is 
the  precious  thing.  It  was  the  man  who  gave  to  the  money 
all  this  power  of  productive  service.  And  the  reason  why 
he  had  the  power  to  do  this  was  because  he  himself 
believed  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart  that  a  man  is  more 


HOU-    MUCH    IS    HE     M'ORTH  f 


149 


precious  than  gold.  Any  man  who  believes  this  as  heartily 
as  he  believed  it  is  just  as  rich  as  he  was ;  he  may  not  now 
have  the  power  to  confer  so  many  benefits,  but  he  has 
within  himself  the  resources  out  of  which  all  manner  of 
blessings   shall   arise  to  him   and  to   all   men  throughout 

eternitv. 

I  want  you  to  believe  this,  you  poor,  who  are  sometimes 
oppressed  and  angered  by  the  false  standards  with  which 
.oeietv  measures  worth;  you  who  are  sometimes  ashamed 
and  humiliated  because  your  possessions  are  so  small.    \  ou 
have  not  much  gold?     No;  but  you  have  a  human  soul, 
and  that  is  something  worth  far  more.     And  now  will  you, 
with    a   mind    whose   faculties,    ranging   free    through   the 
universe,  are  fitted  to  grasp  all   knowledge;   with  a  heart 
that  can  hold  an  unmeasured  volume  of  holy  love  and  joy  ; 
vou   who  are  allied  to  God  himself  in  your  nature,  and  to 
whom  immortal  life  and  blessedness  are  offered -will  you 
be  found  complaining  because  to  you  but  few  of  the  baubles 
of  wealth  and  honor  have  been  given  ?     How  much  would 
they  add  t(.  ycnir  native  honor  and  dignity,  if  you  had  them 

all  ■'* 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  the  Apollo  Belvidere  ?  It  is  the 
statue  of  a  man,  chiseled  out  of  marble,  one  of  the  noblest 
figures  that  art  has  ever  produced.  Do  you  think  that  this 
statue  wouhl  be  made  anv  nobler  or  more  beautiful  if  men 
should  put  gold  rings  on  its  fingers  and  gold  bracelets  on 
its  wrists,  and  strings  of  gold  beads  upon  its  neck,  and 
should  trick  it  out  with  ribbons  and  buttons  and  fringes. 
Would  not  these  tnwdrv  ornaments  detract  from  the  simple 
dignitv  and  maiesty  of  that  model  of  manly  grace  and 
strength  ?     Well,  the  accidents   of   wealth    and   rank    and 


160  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

office  and  station  cannot  add  much  more  of  ornament  or 
value  to  a  true  man  than  could  trinkets  like  these  to  the 
beauty  of  the  Belvidere  Apollo.  His  manhood  itself,  to  all 
clear  insight,  is  something  infinitely  grander  and  diviner 
than  these  belongings. 

I  beseech  you,  then,  ye  poor,  I'emember  this.  If  you 
have  not  wealth  you  have  manhood,  and  how  much  more 
than  this  have  the  lordliest  of  men  ?  What  though,  upon 
the  garments  of  some  of  your  fellow-pilgrinis  in  this  world, 
a  little  more  of  the  dust  of  earth  has  gathered  ?  Came  you 
not  all  from  the  same  starting-|)lace  ?  Travel  you  not  all 
to  the  same  destination  ?  And  when  you  reach  it,  will  not 
your  earthly  possessions  be  just  the  same  as  theirs  ?  Why, 
then,  should  they  lightly  esteem  you,  or  why  should  you 
despise  yourselves  ?  I  charge  you  that  you  despise  not 
yourselves.  I  t-harge  you  that  you  think  upon  your  divine 
origin,  and  your  immortal  heritage,  remembering  always, 
that  however  honorable  it  may  be  to  be  a  rich  man,  or  a 
titled  man,  or  a  famous  man,  after  all  it  is  the  crowning 
glory  and  honor  of  earth  simply  to  be  a  man  ! 

A  bright  truth  is  this ;  but  it  has  a  shadowy  side,  and 
that  I  must  not  conceal.  Man  is  more  precious  and  honor- 
able than  his  institutions,  than  his  titles  and  offices,  than 
his  possessions  and  goods;  more  precious  than  all  else  on 
earth  ;  but  things  the  most  precious  may  have  their  beauty 
tarnished  and  their  excellence  spoiled.  .Vnd  man,  who  out- 
ranks all  other  values,  is  not  exempted  from  this  liability. 
The  loss  or  the  ruin  of  a  man  is  not  an  uncommon  acci- 
dent. Would  that  it  were  !  Would  that  our  eyes  were  not 
so  often  pained  by  the  sad  spectacle  !  Would  that  our  ears 
might  never  again  hear  the  wail  of  sorrow  that  earth   is  all 


HOW    MUCH    IS    HE     WORTH  f  151 

the  while  sending  up  to  heaven  for  .souls  that  are  lost. 
How  glorious  and  godlike  a  thing  your  manhood  is  I  have 
tried  to  show  you ;  now  I  would  warn  you  of  the  danger 
that  it  may  be  defiled  and  lost. 

What  is  it,  then,  that  makes  manhood  so  precious  a 
thing  ?  Wherein  resides  this  excellent  value  ?  It  is  found 
in  those  powers  of  man  that  tit  him  for  communion  with 
God.  It  is  because  of  his  kinship  to  God  that  man  is  of 
such  illustrious  worth.  And  nothing  seems  more  certain 
than  that  these  powers  may,  by  disuse  or  misuse,  be 
impaired  and  finally  lost.  And  so  cut  off  by  his  own  act 
from  the  source  of  all  light  and  love,  he  is  deserted  by  all 
generous  impulses,  by  all  holy  aspirations,  and  is  left  to 
grovel  in  the  mire  of  selfishness  and  carnality.  Thus  does 
he  who  was  so  royally  endowed  fling  away  his  birthright ; 
thus  does '  he  wander,  miserable  prodigal,  into  the  far 
country  of  sin,  wasting  his  substance,  and  perishing  with 
soul  hunger. 

Are  there  any  among  you  whom  this  truth  does  not 
concern  ?  Some  of  you  are  trying  to  save  yourselves  from 
such  unhappy  fate  as  this  ;  to  preserve  from  hai'm  and  ruin 
your  spiritual  natures  ;  but  is  it  not  plain  to  you  that  scores 
of  men  all  about  you  are  losing  that  precious  thing  which 
you  are  trying  to  keep  ?  Some  are  whirling  in  the  giddy 
dance  of  dissipation  ;  some  are  dallying  with  the  toils  of 
vice  ;  some  are  frittering  their  energies  away  in  folly  ;  some 
are  stiffening  in  the  frosts  of  covetousness  ;  some  are  wast- 
ing away  by  the  slow  decay  of  idleness  !  Alas  !  how  many 
ways  there  are  that  seem  right  to  men,  whose  end  are  fhe 
ways  of  death  !  And  is  it  not  possible  to  save  some  of 
these?      Is  not  a  man  worth  saving  ?     If  there  be  joy  in  the 


152  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

presence  of  God  over  one  sinner  saved,  is  there  not  good 
reason  why  you,  who  see  so  many  lost,  should  do  what  you 
can  to  save  them  ?  Are  not  men  too  precious  to  be  lost? 
Can  you  not,  will  you  not,  by  some  means,  save  some  ? 

Are  there  any  signs  that  any  of  those  to  whom  I  speak 
are  losing  themselves  ?  These  natures  of  yours,  worth  so 
much  in  their  perfection,  so  precious  to  you  and  to  God, 
made  in  the  image  of  God,  is  there  any  danger  that  they 
will  be  perverted  and  ruined  ?  Alas,  I  fear  that  with  some 
of  you  there  is  danger  !  I  am  afraid  that  you  are  squan- 
dering the  precious  thing  which  God  gave  you  to  keep.  I 
am  afraid  that  the  rust  of  slothfulness  is  corroding  it ;  or 
that  the  fires  of  lust  are  consuming  it;  or  that  the  attritions 
of  worldliness  are  wearing  it  away.  I  am  afraid  that  you 
have  forsaken  God,  and  despised  the  loving-kindness  of 
His  Son.  And  if  you  do  thus  cut  yourself  off  from  all 
communication  with  Him  who  is  the  life  and  light  of  men, 
what  else  can  happen  to  you,  but  that  all  that  is  most  like 
God  within  you  shall  shrivel  and  decay ;  but  that  inno- 
cence shall  be  supplanted  by  deceit,  and  purity  by  foulness, 
and  honor  by  intrigue,  and  generosity  by  selfishness,  and  all 
noble  affections  by  all  crafty  and  Satanic  passions  ?  Is 
there  not  danger  of  some  such  fate?  Look  within,  I 
beseech  you,  and  measure  the  tendencies.  Give  diligent 
thought,  I  pray  you,  to  this  matter,  lest  the  majestic  nature 
God  has  given  you  become  but  a  majestic  ruin ;  lest  angels 
bow  above  you  chanting  solemnly,  "  How  art  thou  fallen 
from  heaven,  0  Lucifer,  son  of  the  morning  !  " 

"  How  much  was  he  worth  when  he  died  ?"  some  man 
may  ask.  What  if  the  seer  must  answer:  "He  was  the 
heir  of  immortality,  but  he  sold  his  birthright  for  a  song." 


HAGAR   IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

Genesis    xvi:    8. 

"And  he  said,  Hagar,  Sarai's  maid,  whence  earnest  thou,  and  v)hither 
wilt  thou  gof" 

GALATIANS     IV:     24. 

"  Which  things  contain  an  allegory." 

We  have  here  a  dramatic  incident  in  the  early  Hebrew 
history.  An  Egyptian  handmaid  belonging  to  Sarai,  the 
wife  of  Abram,  was  found  by  the  angel  of  the  Lord  near  a 
fountain  of  water  in  the  wilderness.  The  place  seems  to 
have  been  somewhere  in  the  northeast  corner  of  Arabia 
Deserta,  on  the  road  from  Egypt  to  Assyria.  The  word 
wilderness  applied  to  the  region  is  not  therefore  used  in 
that  restricted  sense  in  which  we  often  find  it  employed 
in  the  Bible,  as  signifying  simply  an  uninhabited  region' 
devoted  to  pasturage;  it  was  a  dreary  waste  of  rock  and 
sand,  seared  by  south  winds  that  came  hissing  from  the 
great  Arabian  desert ;  offering  the  traveller  no  better  shelter 
from  the  scorching  sun  than  now  and  then  the  shadow  of  a 
great  rock  ;  a  desolate  and  thirsty  land,  with  onh^  here  and 
there  a  fountain  where  the  pilgrim  paused  to  refresh  him- 
self and   gain  strength  for  the  weary  leagues   before    him. 


i54  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

It  was  neaj-  one  of  these  infre(iiient  fountains,  in  the 
midst  of  this  unfriendly  region,  that  the  angel  of  the  Lord 
found   this    Egyptian    girl. 

The  angel's  greeting  is  a  recognition  ;  he  names  her 
and  defines  her  in  three  words  :  "  Hagar,  Sarai's  maid  !  "  he 
says ;  and  the  girl  hears  the  searching  voice  and  looks 
up  to  see  a  face  of  commanding  majesty  and  sweetness. 
"Whence  camest  thou?"  the  angel  demands.  Was  not  the 
question  superfluous?  Do  not  the  words  already  addressed 
to  her  show  that  the  angel  needed  no  information?  If  he 
knew  her  name  and  knew  that  she  was  Sarai's  maid,  he 
knew  whence  she  had  come.  P>ut  questions  are  often  wisely 
asked,  less  for  tne  benefit  of  the  questioner  than  of  the 
questioned.  It  is  often  the  strongest  way  of  putting  a 
statement,  to  make  a  ({uestion  of  it.  And  it  is  often  the 
surest  way  of  fastening  a  truth  in  the  mind  of  another  to 
frame  a  question  that  shall  elicit  from  him  the  expression 
of  that  truth.  The  teacher  does  not  ask  the  pupil  how 
much  is  six  times  four,  or  what  is  the  capital  of  Maine, 
because  he  wants  information,  or  merely  because  he  wants 
to  find  out  whether  the  pupil  knows  the  answer ;  but  also 
because  he  wishes  to  have  the  pu]>il  strengthen  his  own 
hold  upon  the  truth  by  expressing  it  with  his  own  lips. 
The  question  that  prompts  us  to  tell  what  we  know 
sharpens  our  knowledge  ;  and,  similarly,  the  question  that 
makes  us  tell  what  we  are  doing,  may  often  greatly  in- 
fluence our  conduct.  For  many  a  man,  drifting  on  in  a 
course  of  evil  conduct  that  he  has  never  stopped  to  define, 
it  would  l)e  a  good  thing  if  some  one,  by  a  pointed 
question,  could  get  him  to  say  out,  in  plain  words,  just 
what   he   is    doing.      If    he    would    only    honestly   state   it 


HAGAR     IN     THE     WILDERNESS.  155 

to  himself,  he  would  shrink  from  it  with  horror.  Always 
when  one  is  going  in  questionable  ways  it  is  well  to  pause 
and  put  the  thing  he  is  doing  into  a  clear  proposition.  I 
am  engaged  in  some  business  transaction  and  a  good  angel 
stands  by  my  path  and  asks  me,  "  What  are  you  doing?  " 
If  the  operation,  though  nominally  legitimate,  is  really 
fraudulent,  and  if  I,  though  sometimes  a  little  too  eager  for 
profits,  am  not  an  ingrained  rascal,  it  may  be  good  for  me 
to  have  the  question  put  to  me  in  just  that  way.  For,  on 
reflection,  I  shall  be  forced  to  answer :  "I  am  endeavoring 
to  get  the  money  of  my  neighbor  without  giving  him  a  fair 
equivalent."  And,  having  been  brought  to  put  the  matter 
into  such  plain  words,  I  shall  be  forced,  if  I  am  not  a 
rascal,  to  withdraw  from  the  operation.  My  belief  is  that 
the  angels  ask  us  questions  of  this  sort  very  often ;  that 
the  demand,  "  What  doest  thou?  "  spoken  by  a  monitor  we 
do  not  see,  often  searches  us  in  n:ioments  of  disobedience 
or  waywardness.  Sometimes,  I  fear,  we  lie  to  the  angel,  as 
Hagar  did  not ;  we  try  to  disguise  the  purpose  or  the  deed 
in  seemly  phrases ;  we  strive  to  make  ourselves  believe  that 
the  evil  thing  is  lawful  and  right ;  and  such  paltering  with 
our  consciences  has  frightful  consequences ;  it  is  thus  that 
men  lose  their  souls.  But  the  pointed  query,  spoken  to  us 
in  the  silence,  that  fixes  our  thought  directly  on  the  nature 
of  the  thing  we  are  doing,  ma}'  serve  to  arrest  the  soul  that 
is  not  wedded  to  ini(|uity,  and  may  result  in  the  reversal 
of    its   choices. 

Not  only  for  clearing  away  the  haze  that  often  obscures 
an  unworthy  purpose,  but  also  for  removing  the  fog  in 
which  good  purposes  are  sometimes  involved,  a  pointed 
question  may  serve  us.     There  are  those  whose  intention  to 


156  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

do  right,  to  live  the  highest  life,  is  rather  nebulous.  There 
are  men  who  really  mean  to  be  the  servants  of  Christ,  but 
they  have  never  said  so,  even  to  themselves.  Their  in- 
tention lies  there,  cloudy,  crepuscular,  in  their  mental 
horizon,  but  it  is  there.  It  influences  their  lives,  not 
seldom  ;  it  ought  to  have  far  more  power  over  them  than  it 
has,  and  would  have,  if  it  could  only  get  from  themselves  a 
frank  and  clear  statement.  If  some  question  could  be  put 
that  would  lead  them  to  say  right  out  in  Avords  what  they 
mean  to  be  —  to  objectify  their  purpose  in  language,  so  that 
they  could  look  at  it  and  understand  it  —  the  process 
would  be  most  salutary.  There  is  a  deceitfulness  of  sin 
that  sometimes  hides  from  a  man  his  own  deepest  and 
purest  purposes ;  and  if  these  could  in  some  way  be 
clearly  discovered  to  himself,  it  would  be  a  great  service 
to  him. 

Whether  a  man  is  good  or  bad  at  heart  it  is  well  for 
him  to  know  the  truth  about  himself;  and  any  question, 
whether  it  come  from  the  li})s  of  angel  or  of  mortal,  that 
helps  him  to  a  clear  self-revelation  is  no  doubt  divinely 
spoken. 

Hagar  answered  the  angel's  question,  "  Whence  camest 
thou? "  honestly.  '-'  I  flee  from  the  face  of  my  mistress, 
Sarai,"  she  said.  The  girl  was  running  away  from  home. 
It  was  a  home  by  no  means  perfect,  according  to 
our  standards,  from  which  she  was  bent  on  escaping. 
Many  things  went  on  within  it  that  would  not  be  tolerated 
in  any  Christian  home.  The  social  order,  of  which  this 
home  was  a  part,  was  of  a  kind  that  we  should  consider 
defective  and  even  abominable.  Hagar  herself  had  been 
wronged;   her  deepest  wants  had  not  been  met;   her  holiest 


HA  GAR    TN    THE     WTLDERNESS.  157 

feelings  had  been  outraged ;  and  she  had  gone  forth  in 
resentment  and  desperation,  vowing  never  to  return. 

But  this  home  from  whicli  she  had  gone  forth,  in  spite 
of  all  the  enormities  wrought  into  its  structure,  was  about 
the  best  dwelling  place  on  the  earth  in  that  day.  It  was 
the  dwelling  place  of  a  man  who,  although  his  notions 
of  conduct  were  extremely  crude,  if  judged  by  our  higher 
standards,  was  yet  one  of  the  noblest  men  the  world  has 
ever  seen.  And  although  the  conditions  from  which  Hagar 
was  seeking  to  escape  were  such  conditions  as  we  should 
urge  any  self-respecting  young  woman  in  our  day  to  flee, 
and  stand  not  on  the  order  of  her  going,  nevertheless  her 
best  welfare  and  her  highest  duty  doubtless  required  her  to 
do  the  thing  that  it  would  now  l)e  impossible  for  any 
woman  to  do  without  degradation.  For  there  was  no  place 
to  which  she  could  escape  where  the  same  conditions  would 
not  surromid  her ;  there  was  no  other  household  that  was 
not  polygamous,  in  which  she  could  find  refuge  ;  no  other 
mode  of  life  was  even  conceived  of  then ;  the  hardships  she 
encountered  in  the  house  of  Abram  she  would  suffer  every- 
where else  ;  while  she  could  find  in  no  other  household  the 
elevation  of  thought,  the  nobility  of  character,  the  moral 
stimulus  and  strength  that  she  could  find  in  Abram's 
family.  .She  was  turning  her  back  on  a  better  society, 
a  purer  life,  a  larger  opportunity  than  she  could  find 
anywhere  else  in  the  world.  This  was  the  fact  to  which  the 
angel's  question,  "  Whence  earnest  thou?  "  at  once  recalled 
her. 

But  this  was  not  all.  There  was  another  cpjestion. 
"  Whither  wilt  thou  go?  "  the  voice  demanded.  Hagar  was 
going  down  to  Egypt.     And  what  was  there  in  Egyjjt  that 


158  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

could  give  her  peace?  It  was  a  land  darkness  and  moral  of 
degradation;  a  land  where  the  soul  of  man  was  held  in 
hopeless  subjection  to  the  things  of  sense.  Egyptian  art, 
the  critics  say,  shows  us  the  prevalence  of  matter  over 
mind ;  mind  vainly  struggling  with  the  forces  of  nature, 
and  domineered  by  them.  Thus  the  pyramids  show  us  a 
structure  in  which  the  downward  pull  of  gravitation  is 
most  feebly  resisted  —  the  mass  taking  the  shape  in  which 
gravitation  would  have  the  least  effect  upon  it.  The 
Egyptian  architect  scarcely  ventures  to  rear  a  perpendicular 
wall,  much  less  to  lift  a  graceful  column  or  spring  a 
shapely  arch,  lest  gravitation  should  get  hold  of  his  fabrics 
and  topple  them  over.  The  mastery  of  matter  that  we  see 
in  a  great  Gothic  cathedral  the  Egyptian  does  not  attempt ; 
he  dares  not  match  his  constructive  power  against  the 
forces  of  nature.  He  is  the  slave  of  nature.  And  the 
social  life  in  which  this  bondage  is  felt  must  be  a  life 
of  degradation.  I  do  not  wish  to  deny  that  there  were 
great  elements  in  the  ancient  Egyptian  civilization,  but 
the  downpull  of  materialism  was  too  strong  for  them ;  and 
the  sands  of  the  desert  have  been  drifting  for  centuries  over 
the  ruins  that  alone  remain  to  testify  of  their  existence. 

How  much  did  Hagar,  Sarai's  maid,  know  of  all  this? 
Very  little,  I  suppose.  Yet  she  did  know  that  life  in 
Egypt  was  coarser  and  poorer  far  than  life  in  Abram's  tent ; 
she  knew  that  the  influences  surrounding  her  in  Egypt 
would  be  far  less  wholesome  than  those  from  which  she  was 
escaping ;  she  knew  that  that  lofty  vision  of  the  one  true 
God  which  made  the  ground  holy  where  Abram  stood, 
would  not  be  likely  to  sanctify  the  society  toward  which 
her  face  was  turned. 


HAGAR    IN    THE     WILDERNESS.  159 

This,  then,  is  the  sim])le  fact  that  the  angel's  questions 
bring  into  the  light  of  the  girl's  consciousness.  Hagar  was 
running  away  from  the  household  of  Al)rani,  friend  of  God, 
and  she  was  going  down  to  Egypt.  She  was  leaving  a  very 
light  place,  for  a  very  dark  one.  Behind  her  were  perplexi- 
ties and  discomforts,  but  great  hopes  also,  and  inspiring 
associations  ;  before  her  was  no  relief  foi'  her  trouble  and 
no  hope  for  her  future.  It  was  more  than  doubtful  whether 
she  would  ever  reach  Egypt ;  she  was  far  more  likely  to 
wander  in  the  wilderness  and  perish  by  the  way  ;  but  the 
goal,  if  she  reached  it,  showed  no  prize  worth  striving  for. 

Such  is  the  historical  fact.  Is  it  not  lawful  to  use  it  as 
a  ty])e?  Paul  seems  to  say  so.  He  refers,  in  the  Galatians, 
to  the  story  of  Hagar  —  to  another  chapter  in  her  story  — 
and  after  reciting  what  happened  he  says,  "Which  things 
contain  an  allegory."  They  contain  an  allegory,  the  New 
Version  puts  it;  the  Old  Version  says,  they  are  an  allegory. 
The  New  Version  is  the  more  exact,  and  the  more  reason- 
able. The  story  was  not  intended  to  teach  the  spiritual 
truth  toward  which  we  are  looking  now ;  but  it  serves  to 
illustrate  that  truth.  It  furnishes  us  a  pertinent  analogy. 
For  there  are  other  wanderers,  in  other  wildernesses,  to 
whom  some  good  angel  might  well  put  the  questions  that 
Hagar  heard  by  the  fountain  Lahai-roi,  "  Whence  camest 
thou,  and  whither   wilt   thou   go?" 

I  suppose  that  I  may  be  speaking  to  some  whose  feet 
are  pressing  the  shifting  sands  of  the  wide  wilderness 
of  doubt.  Their  religious  beliefs  are  in  an  unsettled  and 
chaotic  condition.  They  are  only  certain  of  one  thing,  and 
that  is  that  they  are  not  certain  of  anything.  They  are 
agnostics.      Now  there  are  subjects  on  which  most  of  us 


160  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

can  well  afford  to  be  agnostics.  An  agnostic  is  one  who 
does  not  know.  Well,  there  are  quite  a  number  of  things 
that  I  do  not  know,  and  it  seems  to  me  the  part  of  wisdom 
to  say  so.  There  are  not  a  few  subjects  concerning  which 
the  Lord  of  light  has  seen  fit  to  leave  us  in  darkness. 
Neither  in  nature  nor  in  revelation  is  there  any  distinct 
teaching  about  them.  And  the  things  which  are  least 
positively  taught  in  the  Revelation  are  things  which  men 
often  teach  with  the  greatest  positiveness,  and  which  they 
are  willing  to  make  all  their  neighbors  heretics  for  refusing 
to  believe.  But  we  must  venture  to  resist  all  such  dictation, 
and,  to  say  frankly,  sometimes,  that  we  do  not  know.  Our 
faith  will  be  all  the  sounder  and  clearer  and  stronger  if 
mixed  with  a  resolute  agnosticism  respecting  the  things 
that  we  do  not  know. 

But  while  there  are  subjects  of  this  nature,  about 
which  we  do  well  to  confess  our  ignorance,  there  are 
other  subjects  of  which  faith  ought  to  give  us  a  strong 
assurance.  Agnosticism  does  well  for  certain  outlying 
districts  of  our  thought,  but  not  for  the  great  central 
tracts  of  religious  belief  and  feeling.  The  navigator 
may  acknowledge  without  shame,  that  he  does  not  know 
the  boundaries  or  the  channels  of  those  Polar  seas  where 
man  has  never  sailed ;  but  you  vi^ould  not  take  passage 
with  a  captain  who  declared  that  he  knew  nothing  of 
the  way  out  of  the  harbor  where  his  vessel  lay,  and 
nothing  of  the  way  into  the  port  to  which  you  wanted 
to  go,  and  did  not  even  know  whether  there  were  any 
such  port.  The  doctor  may  safely  own  that  there  are 
some  things  that  he  does  not  know  about  disease  —  about 
malaria,  for   instance ;    but   if    he    should    tell    you    that 


HAG  AH     IX    THE     WrLDERNESS.  761 

nobody  knows  anything  about  laws  of  health  and  methods 
of  treatment  you  would  ask  him  to  send  in  his  bill  at  once. 
As  a  business  man  you  will  readily  confess  that  trade  has 
many  contingencies  which  you  can  not  predict,  but  you  feel 
that  you  know  something  about  the  general  laws  of  traffic 
and  the  conditions  of  success,  else  you  would  not  venture 
your  capital  in  trade. 

Just  so  in  the  religious  life.  All  wise  men  know  that 
there  is  much  that  they  do  not  know ;  it  is  the  beginning  of 
wisdom  to  discern  the  limitations  of  knowledge ;  but  the 
theory  that  all  is  uncertainty  in  the  religious  realm  ;  that 
there  is  no  sure  word  of  promise,  no  steadfast  anchor  of  the 
soul,  no  charted  channels,  no  headlands  of  hope,  no  knowl- 
edge of  a  port  beyond  seas,  is  a  bewildering,  benumbing, 
deadening  theory ;  out  of  it  comes  nothing  but  apathy  and 
despair.  The  religious  faculty  in  man  is  one  of  the  central 
elements  of  his  nature;  call  it  what  you  will  —  instinct, 
feeling,  tendency  —  it  is  there;  it  is  ineradicable;  and  it 
needs  and  must  have  its  appropriate  nutriment,  its  normal 
training,  else  the  life  is  defective;  its  joy  and  its  strength 
forever  depart.  The  space  that  ought  to  be  filled  by  a 
normal  and  wholesome  activity,  a  healing,  invigorating, 
commanding,  unifying  energy,  becomes  a  dismal  vacancy, 
and  the  soul  is  wretched  albeit  it  knows  not  the  meaning  of 
its  own  wretchedness.  Even  when  the  doubter  stops  short 
of  complete  agnosticism  in  religious  matters,  this  sense  of 
desolation  often  invades  his  life.  When  doubt  becomes  a 
larger  factor  than  faith  in  his  religious  thinking ;  when  the 
things  that  he  denies  are  more  than  those  that  he  affirms  ; 
when  the  posture  of  his  mind  toward  all  these  highest 
themes  is  that  of  negation,  then  a  sense  of  lonesomeness,  a 


16^  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

vague,  undefined  melancholy  are  sure  to  overspread  the  life. 
This  land  of  doubt  is  a  wilderness,  treeless,  verdureless, 
shelterless,  a  dry  and  thirsty  land  where  no  water  is.  This 
is  a  truth  —  if  it  is  a  truth  —  that  admits  of  no  argument. 
It  is  a  fact  of  experience;  if  none  of  you  know  that  it  is 
true,  then  it  is  true  for  none  of  you  ;  if  any  of  you  do  know 
it,  you  do  not  need  to  have  it  proved  ;  the  simple  statement 
of  it  is  enough.  I  could  not  prove  to  you  by  argument  that 
the  dumb  ague  is  uncomfortable  ;  if  any  of  you  have  had 
it,  you  do  not  wish  me  to  waste  any  words  in  proving  it. 
It  is  because  I  believe  that  there  are  some  in  this  congre- 
gation who  know  that  the  wilderness  of  doubt  is  a  desolate 
place,  who  know  that  in  losing  their  hold  upon  the  great 
spiritual  verities  they  have  parted  with  niuch  that  gave  zest 
and  charm  to  life,  that  I  am  speaking  now.  To  all  such 
wanderers,  I  bring  the  question  of  the  angel  to  Hagar  in 
the  wilderness,  "  Whence  camest  thou  ?  "  You  were  not 
always  in  this  wilderness  ;  whence  did  you  come  ?  Do  you 
not  look  back  to  a  home  from  which  your  thought  has 
wandered,  a  house  of  faith  in  which  you  once  abode  in 
confidence  and  peace  ?  I  am  speaking  now  in  parables, 
remember ;  it  is  not  of  the  literal  home  where  your  father 
and  mother  dwelt  of  which  I  am  speaking,  but  rather  of 
that  edifice  of  sacred  thoughts  and  firm  jjcrsuasions  and 
earnest  purposes  and  joyful  hopes  in  which  your  soul  was 
sheltered  and  comforted  in  the  days  of  your  childhood. 
Was  there  not  for  you,  in  those  earlier  days,  a  spiritual 
tabernacle  of  this  sort,  a  house  not  made  with  hands,  in 
which  you  found  protection  and  peace  ?  The  hynni  that 
we  sing,  sometimes,  helps  me  express  my  thought : 


HA6AR    IS     THE     WILDERNESS.  163 

"  Dear  Comforter,  eternal  Love, 
If   thou  wilt  stay  with  me, 
Of   lowly  tlioujjhts  and  simple  ways 
I'll  build  a  hduse  for  thee." 

In  some  such  house  as  that,  bnilt  of  lowly  thoughts 
and  simple  ways,  of  humble  prayers  and  faithful  services, 
your  soul  was  wont  to  dwell,  in  days  perhaps  not  long 
departed.  I  want  you  to  look  back  to  that  life  and  think  it 
all  over.  Doubtless  there  were  perplexities  and  difficulties 
that  you  now  recall.  Doubtless  that  belief  in  which  you 
were  trained  had  in  it  some  elements  of  ignorance  and 
darkness.  There  were  gloomy  corners  in  it,  and  chinks 
through  which  the  bitter  winds  of  a  rigorous  and  lifeless 
dogmatism  sometimes  blew ;  nevertheless  it  gave  you  such 
shelter,  such  cheer,  such  outlook  as  you  have  never  found 
since  you  left  it.  Was  there  not,  I  ask  you,  in  the  Christian 
faith  of  that  past  time,  not  only  a  comfort  and  a  solace,  but 
an  inspiration,  an  invigoration,  a  bracing  energy  that  you 
do  not  find  in  the  dim  and  dismal  negations  of  the  present 
time  ?  0  wanderer,  astray  in  the  bleak  wilderness  of 
doubt,  whence  camest  thou  ? 

But  this  is  not  the  only  question.  "  Whither  wilt  thou 
go  ?"  Tarry  here  you  cannot ;  here  is  no  continuing  city. 
Agnosticism  is  not  the  end,  barren  and  profitless  as  it  is. 
The  road  that  you  are  travelling  leads  down  to  Egypt, —  to 
"  a  land  of  darkness  as  darkness  itself,  and  where  the  light 
is  as  darkness."  Did  you  imagine  that  by  breaking  away 
from  the  bonds  of  the  historic  faith,  and  going  in  search  of 
new  light  in  unknown  paths,  you  would  escape  all  difficul- 
ties of  thought  ?  You  have  found  out  by  this  time  that 
you  were  mistaken.     The  old  faith  did  not  make  everything 


16^  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

plain,  and  therefore  you  abandoned  it.     Is  everythinu'  ])lain 
now  ?      Are  there  no  mysteries  unsolved  ? 

Every  man  must  have  some  sort  of  theory  by  which  to 
explain  the  universe.  The  savaoe  has  his  theory  ;  no  civil- 
ized man  can  live  without  one.  Ke  may  not  undertake  to 
teach  it ;  he  may  not  hold  it  very  firmly  ;  but  some  kind  of 
notion  about  how  things  came  to  be  he  must  have.  A  clear 
and  sheer  agnosticism  will  content  no  man.  Some  of  our 
scientific  people  profess  agnosticism,  but  they  are  forever 
thrusting  in  our  faces  their  theories  of  the  origin  of  things. 
And  all  possible  theories  on  this  question  of  origins  reduce 
to  these  :  Theism,  Pantheism,  Atheism.  You  may  believe 
that  there  is  a  God,  who  is  the  author  of  the  universe ; 
pu  may  believe  that  the  universe  itself  "is  God  ;  you  may 
believe  that  there  is  ho  God,  and  that  all  things  are  the 
result  of  blind  chance.  One  of  these  oi)inions  every  man 
who  thinks  must  hold,  explicitly  or  implicitly.  The  agnos- 
tic position  cannot  be  a  permanent  position.  No  man  will 
stay  in  that  wilderness.  And  to  you  the  voice  comes  in  that 
wilderness,  "  Whither  wilt  thou  go  ?  "  You  have  turned 
away  from  the  old  faith  of  Christian  Theism,  and  there  is 
nowhere  for  you  to  go  but  to  Pantheism  or  to  Atheism. 
And  these  are  only  different  names  for  the  same  benighted 
land.  There  is  no  light  in  either  of  them.  They  will  not 
satisfy  your  heart.  They  will  not  satisfy  your  imagination. 
They  will  not  satisfy  your  reason.  There  are  difficulties 
connected  with  the  old  Biblical  theory  —the  theory  that  the 
universe  is  the  orderly  creation  under  law  of  an  infinite 
personal  God ;  but  the  diflficulties  connected  with  this 
theory  are  trifling  compared  with  those  that  arise  from  the 
attempt  to  explain  the  universe  by  the  theories  of  Atheism 


HAOAR     IN    THE     WILDERNESS.  165 

or  of  Pantheism.  Try  to  account  for  all  the  things  that 
you  know  on  the  suppositit)n  that  the  All  is  God  or  that 
there  is  no  God,  and  you  soon  find  yourself  in  the  midst  of 
endless  contradictions  and  absurdities.  I  am  talking  now 
simply  as  a  thinking  man  ;  T  am  discussing  the  problem 
merely  as  a  problem  of  reason  ;  and  I  say  that  there  is  no 
light  in  the  Egypt  of  Atheism  or  of  Pantheism  that  clears 
up  the  mystery  of  the  universe ;  that  there  is  no  relief  for 
any  thorough  thinker  in  either  of  them;  nay,  that  they 
plunge  us  into  a  darkness  that  can  be  felt.  Like  that 
monumental  Egyptian  architecture  of  which  we  spoke, 
these  theories  show  us  the  mind  of  man  mastered  and 
overwhelmed  by  the  downpuU  of  material  forces.  Theism, 
Christian  theism,  the  doctrine  of  a  Divine  Father  revealed 
to  men  in  the  person  of  a  Redeemer,  does  give  a  reason  for 
the  universe,  and  does  introduce  into  human  history  a 
grand  purpose  and  an  intelligible  order ;  but  Atheism  and 
Pantheism  leave  us  in  blank  dismay  before  a  problem  that 
seems  to  have  no  rational  solution. 

And  if  the  mental  darkness  into  which  they  conduct  us 
is  so  dense,  what  shall  we  say  of  the  moral  darkness  in 
which  they  envelope  us ;  of  the  blotting  from  our  sky  of 
every  star  of  hope  ;  of  the  quenching  of  that  torch  of  Bible 
truth  by  which  our  feet  are  guided  through  this  land  of 
shadows ;  of  the  extinguishment  of  our  faith  in  the  infinite 
love  of  God,  which  is  the  inspiration  of  all  our  holiest 
endeavors  ? 

No,  my  friend,  I  tell  you  truly,  you  who  have  lost  your 
hold  on  the  great  spiritual  verities  and  are  wandering  in  the 
wilderness  of  spiritual  doubt,  you  can  not  tarry  where  you 
are ;   you  must  go  further ;    and  every  step  you  go  in  the 


166  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

path  that  you  are  now  travelling  takes  you  nearer  to  a 
region  where  there  is  no  ray  of  light  or  hope,  a  land  of 
darkness  and  of  the  shadow  of  death.  Can  you  not  see,  is 
it  not  clear,  that  you  would  better  turn  your  face  toward  the 
spiritual  home  from  which  you  have  been  wandering  ?  I 
know  what  you  are  saying,  and  it  is  true  —  that  you  cannot 
force  your  mind  into  accepting  what  does  not  seem  to  you 
rational.  I  do  not  ask  you  to  do  that ;  all  I  ask  is  that  you 
should  soberly  think  of  what  you  have  left  behind,  and  of 
what  is  before  you  if  you  go  on.  Rest  for  the  thought, 
comfort  for  the  heart  there  is  none  in  the  abysses  of  nega- 
tion toward  which  your  feet  are  tending  ;  they  offer  you  no 
inspiration  for  the  present  and  no  hope  for  the  future. 
This  is  plain  as  the  sun  in  the  heavens.  And  I  am  sure 
that  if  you  will  but  pause  and  think  ;  if  y(Hi  will  let  the 
angel  of  memory  touch  the  chords  that  once  vibrated  with 
tender  feeling ;  if  you  will  gather  round  yourself  again  the 
associations  of  your  earlier  years  ;  if  you  will  put  yourself 
into  a  friendly  and  hospitable  attitude  toward  the  old  Bible 
faith,  ready  to  accept  all  of  it  that  approves  itself  to  your 
intelligence  and  your  sense  of  need  —  no  more  —  you  will 
still  find  in  it  more  light  for  your  mind,  more  invigoration 
for  your  virtue  and  more  joy  for  your  heart  than  you  can 
find  anywhere  else  in  the  world.  Perhaps  the  old  spiritual 
house  in  which  your  youth  was  nurtured  may  need  enlarge- 
ment in  its  intellectual  part.  Enlarge  it,  then  !  There  is 
room  on  its  strong  foundations  to  build  a  house  of  faith 
large  enough  for  the  amplest  intelligence.  If  there  are 
gloomy  corners  in  it  into  which  the  light  ought  to  be  let,  let 
in  the  light !  If  there  are  chinks  through  which  the  bitter 
winds  of  a  fatalistic  dogmatism  blow,  stop  them  !     If  there 


HAGAR     IN     THE     WILDERNESS.  IQ^ 

are  poisonous  vines  that  have  fastened  on  its  walls  strip 
them  off!  It  is  the  faith  that  we  cherish,  and  not  its  flaws, 
nor  its  parasites. 

It  is  a  precious  faith,  a  glorious  hope,  a  mighty  inspir- 
ation that  the  old  Bible  offers  still  to  those  who  will  take  it 
in  its  simplicity  and  rest  in  its  strong  assurances.  It  was 
the  staff  on  which  the  patriarchs  leaned,  as  they  trod  the 
land  of  promise :  it  was  the  mantle  of  might  that  the 
prophets  wore,  handed  down  from  one  generation  to 
another ;  it  is  the  energy  that  has  kindled  the  hearts  and 
the  lips  of  apostles  and  missionaries  in  all  the  ages ;  it  has 
lightened  the  shackles  of  the  slave ;  it  has  cheered  the  toil 
of  the  patient  workman  in  shop  and  field ;  it  has  given  to 
weary  watchers  songs  in  the  night  season ;  it  has  fallen  in 
low  tones  from  the  lips  of  happy  mothers  as  they  crooned 
the  lullaby ;  and  when  the  casket  has  stood  in  the  cradle's 
place,  and  the  happy  song  has  changed  to  a  wail,  it  has 
poured  into  the  broken  heart  the  healing  of  its  hope ;  it  has 
strengthened  many  a  pilgrim  going  down  into  the  valley  of 
the  shadow,  and  has  left  upon  the  marble  brow  its  parting 
smile  of  peace.  Happy  are  they  who  have  never  lost  this 
heritage  of  faith  ;  blessed  are  they  who,  having  forsaken  its 
comfort,  and  known  the  desolation  of  the  wilderness  of 
doubt,  come  home  before  nightfall  to  its  shelter  and  its 
rest ! 


THE    FUTILITY   OF  THE  SENSUOUS. 

John   vi:    62. 

"  What  and  if  ye  shall  see  the  Son  of  ynan  ascend  up  where  he  was 
before  ! ' ' 

This  is  part  of  that  conversation  between  Jesus  and 
the  people  which  took  place  on  the  day  following  the 
feeding  of  the  five  thousand.  He  had  gone  back  from  the 
farther  shore  of  Tiberias  to  Capernaum,  to  escape  from 
the  throng;  but  the  people  had  followed  him,  and  were  now 
industriously  questioning  him.  Some  measure  of  earnest- 
ness in  the  pursuit  of  truth  seems  to  have  been  awakened 
in  them  by  their  contact  with  him  ;  some  of  their  questions 
reveal  a  quickened  perception  of  spiritual  needs.  Yet 
the  tone  of  most  of  them  indicates  that  the  questioners 
were  sensation-seekers,  rather  than  searchers  after  truth ; 
that  they  were  hungering  and  thirsting  for  prodigies,  more 
than  for  righteousness.  "  What  shall  we  do  that  we  might 
work  the  works  of  God?  "  they  ask  him.  A  great  question, 
truly,  if  one  gives  it  the  right  meaning.  But  if  one  only 
means  by  it  what  Simon  the  sorcerer  meant — "How  shall 
I  be  able  to  astonish  the  populace  by  preternatural  signs?" 
it  shows  that  he  who  proposes  it,  like  Simon  Magus,  has  no 


170  THlNOfi    NEW    AND    OLD. 

part  nor  lot  in  the  great  matter  that  brought  our  Lord  to 
earth ;  that  his  state  of  mind  is  one  to  which  no  real 
spiritual  gift  is   accessible. 

The  one  urgent  question  of  this  multitude  that  now 
were  thronging  about  our  Lord,  was  this:  "What  sign 
showest  thou  then,  that  we  may  see  and  believe  thee?  what 
dost  thou  work?"  They  had  just  seen  one  marvel,  and 
the  effect  upon  them  was  to  whet  their  appetite  for  the 
marvellous.  They  wanted  to  witness  more  wonders.  Our 
Lord  tells  them,  indeed,  that  they  were  seeking  him  not 
because  they  had  seen  the  miracles  but  because  they  had 
eaten  of  the  loaves  ;  but  what  he  means  by  that  saying 
plainly  is  that  they  had  failed  to  see, the  real  meaning 
and  intent  of  the  miracle.  It  was  not  any  want  of  suscep- 
tibility to  the  marvellous  with  which  he  was  reproaching 
them ;  for  one  of  the  complaints  that  he  often  makes 
against  them  is  that  they  are  a  generation  always  seeking 
for  a  -sign.  That  is  what  they  are  seeking  now.  And 
therefore  all  his  replies  to  their  questions  serve  only  to 
baffle   them. 

"  Moses  sent  us  manna,"  they  cry :  "  let  us  see  you 
bring   down    a   shower   of    it." 

"Nay,"  he  replies:  "that  was  not  the  true  bread  from 
heaven  that  Moses  gave  you ;  my  Father  is  giving  you  now, 
if  you  would  but  receive  it,  the  true  bread  from  heaven. 
I  came  down  from  heaven  to  bring  you  that.  I  am  the 
bread   of    life." 

And  then  he  went  on  to  unfold  to  them,  in  words  whose 
meaning  they  scarcely  comprehended,  the  wonderful  doc- 
trine of  the  communication  of  spiritual  life  to  men  by  their 
union    with    himself.      But   doubtless   the   one   thing   that 


THE     FVTILITY    OF    THE    SENSUOUS.  171 

})uzzled  them  most  was  liis  assertion  that  he  had  come 
down    from    heaven. 

"  The  Jews  then  murmured  at  him  because  he  said, 
I  am  the  bread  which  came  down  from  heaven.  And 
they  said,  Is  not  this  Jesus,  the  son  of  Jose])h,  whose 
father  and  mother  we  know?  How  is  it,  then,  that  he 
saith,   I   came   down    from   heaven?" 

The  coming  down  from  heaven  meant  to  them,  only 
the  descent  of  a  human  body  out  of  the  u})per  sky  through 
the  clouds  to  the  earth.  This  they  had  not  seen.  If  this 
had  really  taken  place,  whij  had  they  not  seen  it?  Had 
they  been  defrauded  by  the  concealment  from  them  of  this 
spectacle?  How  could  this  Jesus  expect  them  to  be  his 
disciples  if  he  kept  such  a  taking  entertainment  as  this 
from  their  sight?  The  truth  was  that  they  did  not  believe 
the  story  of  his  coming  down  from  heaven  at  all.  If  he 
had  done  a  thing  of  that  kind  he  would  not  have  done  it  in 
a  corner.  It  was  incredible  and  preposterous.  And  over 
this  doubt,  not  only  the  multitude  of  the  Jews,  but  some 
of  those  who  had  enrolled  themselves  among  his  disciples, 
stumbled  and  fell. 

That  the  mental  difficulty  of  the  Jews  was  something 
of  this  nature  seems  clear.  Doubtless  they  were  offended 
by  his  mystical  sayings  about  eating  his  flesh  and  drinking 
his  blood ;  l)ut  doubtless  the  thing  that  was  hardest  for 
them  to  receive  w^as  this  very  saying  that  he  had  come 
down  from  heaven.  At  any  rate  this  is  the  unspoken  cavil 
to  which  our  Lord  addresses  his  reply  :  "  Does  this  offend 
you?  What  and  if  ye  shall  see  the  Son  of  man  ascend  up 
where  he  was  before?     It  is  the  sjiirit  that  ((uickeneth,  the 


172  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

flesh  profiteth  nothing ;  the  words  that  I  speak  unto  you 
they  are   spirit   and   they   are   life." 

Is  not  the  meaning  plain?  "You  find  fault,"  the 
Master  says,  "because  you  did  not  see  the  Son  of  man 
coming  down  out  of  heaven.  The  incarnation  is  without 
meaning  to  you  because  your  eyes  did  not  behold  this 
physical  prodigy.  But  what  good  would  it  have  done  you 
if  you  had  seen  it?  And  suppose  that  you  should  see  the 
Son  of  man — this  very  body  of  flesh  and  blood  —  ascend- 
ing through  the  air  and  should  watch  it  until  it  was  out 
of  sight.  That  would  be  a  still  greater  wonder,  but  what 
would  it  avail  you  to  see  it?  It  would  gratify  your 
curiosity,  but  what  effect  would  it  have  upon  your  charac- 
ters? What  real  need  of  your  souls  would  it  supply? 
How  much  better  off  would  you  be  after  you  had  seen  it? 
It  would  be  a  physical  marvel,  nothing  more.  It  would 
thrill  your  senses  ;  it  would  make  your  nerves  to  tingle ;  but 
it  is  not  by  such  sensations  as  these  that  men  are  saved. 
It  is  the  spirit  that  quickeneth,  the  flesh  profiteth  nothing. 
And  although  I  do  show  you  signs  and  wonders,  they  are 
only  as  object  lessons  through  which  I  seek  to  convey  to 
you  spiritual  truths.  When  you  see  nothing  in  a  miracle 
but  the  display  of  physical  power  you  do  not  see  the  real 
miracle  at  all,  and  what  you  do  see  is  an  injury  rather  than 
a   benefit   to    you." 

The  subject  thus  suggested  to  us  is  the  futility  of  the 
sensuous  as  a  factor  in  the  religious  life, — the  small  value 
that  must  be  attached  to  any  revelation  that  is  addressed 
primarily   and    mainly  to   our   senses. 

I  am  sure  that  there  is  among  us  not  a  little  hankering 
after  this  very  thing  that  the  Lord  here  teaches  to  regard 


THE    FVTILITY    OF    THE    SENSVOUS.  173 

as  a  thing  of  little  moment.  "  If  we  could  only  witness  a 
miracle,''  say  some  good  Christians,  — "  if  we  could  only 
see  water  turned  to  wine  or  dead  men  raised  to  life,  if  we 
could  only  hear  a  voice  speaking  to  us  out  of  heaven 
—  above  all,  if  we  could  see  the  Lord  Jesus  himself  in  the 
flesh,  and  hear  his  voice,  —  how  it  would  help  us  !  It 
must  have  been  a  great  deal  easier  for  the  disciples  who 
saw  all  these  things  to  follow  the  Savior ;  and  we  cannot 
understand  how  the  Jews  who  witnessed  them  could  have 
denied  him/'  To  all  such  as  these  the  Master's  searching 
question  comes,  "  What  and  if  you  should  see  and  hear  all 
these  things?  What  relation  would  such  visions  and  signs 
have  to  your  spiritual  life?  Suppose  that  you  should 
witness  what  purported  to  be  a  veritable  miracle ;  what 
good   would   it  do   you? 

"  It  would  show  me  God,"  answers  one.  "  It  would 
give  me  a  demonstration  of  his  existence  and  his  power 
that  I  greatly  long  for.  It  would  make  me  certain  of 
a  great  fact,  which  I  now  l)elieve,  but  of  which  I  am 
not   certain." 

Would  it?  I  must  be  allowed  to  intimate  my  doubts. 
I  do  not  believe  that  you  have  closely  studied  this  problem 
of  mental  certitude.  You  say  that  a  miracle  would  demon- 
strate the  existence  of  God.  Well,  grant  that,  for  a 
moment.  But  you  could  never  be  absolutely  certain  that 
the  thing  you  thjought  a  miracle  was  not  an  illusion  of 
the  senses.  You  have  seen  tricks  of  jugglers  that  looked 
like  miracles.  For  your  life  you  could  not  distinguish 
them  from  miracles.  Yet  you  knew  that  somehow  the 
magician  had  made  your  senses  deceive  you.  You  knoAV 
that  vour  senses  do  sometimes  deceive  vou.      You  cannot 


llJf.  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

put  absolute  faith  in  their  testimony.  Now  a  miracle  must 
be  verified,  if  it  is  verified  at  all,  by  the  senses.  What 
is  a  miracle?  It  is  "a  deviation,"  says  Webster,  "from  the 
known  laws  of  nature.''''  "  A  miracle,"  says  President 
Seelye  in  Johnson's  Cyclopedia,  "is  a  sensible  event  wrought 
by  God  in  attestation  of  the  truth.  It  must  therefore  occur 
in  nature,  else  it  would  not  be  apprehensible  to  our  senses." 
It  is  to  the  physical  senses,  then,  that  every  miracle  is 
addressed.  The  only  testimony  by  which  it  can  be  estab- 
lished is  the  testimony  of  the  senses.  And  you  and  I 
know  that,  while  our  senses  can  be  trusted  well  enough  for 
the  common  operations  of  life,  they  can  yet  be  deceived  ; 
and  we,  who  have  been  fooled  more  than  once  by  optical 
illusions  and  by  the  tricks  of  jugglers,  could  never  feel 
absolutely  certain  that  we  had  seen  a  miracle.  But  the 
difficulty  is   deeper   still. 

You  say  that  a  veritable  miracle  would  prove  to  you 
the  existence  of  God.  But  a  miracle,  according  to  the 
authority  I  have  before  quoted,  is  "  a  counteraction  of 
nature  b_y  the  Author  of  nature."  In  other  words  it  is 
an  interruption  of  the  order  of  Nature  by  the  Power  that 
established  the  order.  Such  an  interruption,  you  tliink, 
would  be  a  signal  proof  to  yon  of  the  presence  and  power 
of  God.  You  would  feel  sure  that  God  exists,  because 
none  but  He  who  established  the  order  could  interrui)t  it. 
But  this  reasoning  involves  a  fallacy.  The  condition  of 
the  miracle,  according  to  your  own  conception,  is  the  order, 
of  which  the  miracle  is  the  interruption.  If  it  were  not  for 
the  order,  established  beforehand,  there  cotild  not  be  a 
miracle.  The  order  must  exist  or  there  could  be  no  inter- 
ruption of  it.     And  the  order,  according  to  your  own  theory. 


THE     FVTTLTTV    OE     THE    SENSUOUS.  175 

implies  an  Orderer.  A  miracle  is  a  counteraction  of 
Nature,  b}^  the  Author  of  Nature.  But  Nature  must  be 
made  to  act  before  it  can  be  counteracted.  And  the  Power 
that  counteracts  it  is  the  same  Power  that  caused  it  to  act. 
You  assume  the  existence  of  God,  then,  in  the  expectation 
of  a  miracle.  If  you  do  not  believe  beforehand  in  a 
divinely  established  order  of  nature,  you  cannot  believe  in 
a  miracle.  "The  miracle,"  says  President  Bascom,  "rests 
back  for  its  support  on  the  personal  being  of  God ;  without 
this   prior   doctrine   there   is   no   opportunit}^  for   it." 

There  is,  therefore,  a  subtle  fallacy  in  this  notion  that  a 
real  miracle  would  demonstrate  to  you  the  existence  of 
God.  The  thing  to  be  proved  is  assumed ;  and  your 
argument  has  no  basis  until  it  is  assumed.  If  you  believed 
in  God  a  miracle  might  authenticate  to  you  some  special 
command  of  God  ;  but  the  belief  in  God  must  exist  before 
the   miracle   can    be   looked    for. 

Now  reflect  for  a  moment.  Which,  after  all,  is  the 
clearer  and  more  convincing  proof  of  the  divine  presence 
and  power,  the  existing  order  of  Nature,  or  some  sudden 
and  violent  interruption  of  that  order  ?  Take  the  great  law 
of  gravitation  which  keeps  all  the  matter  of  the  universe  in 
its  thrall ;  which  holds  the  worlds  in  their  orbits  round  the 
sun,  and  marshalls  them  all  in  perfect  order,  so  that  each 
one  of  them  makes  its  daily  and  yearly  revolution  in  exact 
time ;  so  that  the  position  of  each  one  of  them  in  the 
heavens  at  any  moment  can  be  predicted  with  confidence ; 
so  that  seasons  and  months  and  years  and  days  go  on 
in  their  unbroken  march,  and  we  have  the  light  for  labOr 
and  the  darkness  for  rest,  and  the  ebbing  and  the  flowing 
of  the  tides,  and  cold  and  heat  and  sunshine  and  rain,  and 


IJQ  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

all  the  marvellous  procession  of  events  and  prodncts  that 
makes  life  possible  and  delightful  on  this  planet  —  this 
great  law  of  gravitation,  under  wliich  all  these  things  take 
place  with  such  beneficent  regularity  —  is  not  this,  to  your 
mind,  a  more  convincing  proof  of  the  existence  of  God 
than  any  violent  counteraction  of  that  law  could  possibly 
be?  Suppose  you  should  see  a  heavy  granite  boulder  fly  up 
into  the  air.  That  would  be  an  apparent  counteraction  of 
the  law  of  gravitation  ;  and,  if  it  were  not  the  effect  of  an 
illusion,  or  of  some  unseen  force,  and  if  the  phenomenon 
were  produced  by  the  divine  volition  (of  which  y6u  could 
never  be  sure) — it  would  be  a  miracle.  But  would  the 
sight  of  such  a  phenomenon  as  this,  if  you  were  perfectly 
sure  that  it  was  caused  by  the  divine  volition,  be  to  you  a 
proof  of  God  as  strong  as  that  which  you  see  in  the 
constant  working  of  the  law  thus  set  aside?  To  my  own 
mind,  the  order  is  the  marvellous  thing,  the  divine  thing ; 
and  while  I  believe  that  the  Power  that  ordained  the  order 
may  and  does  sometimes  interrupt  it  for  moral  purposes,  I 
see  a  stronger  proof  of  his  being  in  the  regularity  of  its 
action  than  in  the  occasional  irregularities  produced  by  the 
divine  volition. 

Ruskin  puts  the  same  thought  with  his  accustomed 
vividness  when  he  says,  for  substance,  "  I  should  not  be 
astonished  to  see  the  sun  stand  still  in  the  heavens.  I  have 
always  been  wondering  that  it  does  not  stoj).  The  marvel- 
lous thing  to  nie  is  that  it  keeps   going  on." 

A  man  visits  an  orphan  asylum  and  inspects  it  from 
top  to  bottom,  finding  on  every  floor  the  most  complete 
provision  for  all  the  wants  of  the  children,  for  their 
comfort,  their  protection,  their  instruction,  their  enjoyment; 


THE    FUTILITY    OF    THE    SENSUOUS.  177 

everything  that  the  benignant  wisdom  of  good  men,  and 
the  tender  eare  of  good  women  can  invent  is  brought  in 
here  to  bless  and  brighten  the  lives  of  these  little  ones ;  and 
the  visitor  observes  all  this  good  work  going  on  da}'  by  day 
with  order  and  grace,  and  sees  nothing  in  it ;  but  by  and 
by  somebody  sends  up  a  toy  balloon  from  the  play  ground 
to  please  the  children,  and  in  that  he  discovers  the  sign  of 
the  presence  of  a  loving  will,  a  sign  that  he  had  never  seen 
before.  In  all  the  vast  provision  that  was  made  regularly 
and  daily  for  their  highest  needs  he  found  no  evidence  of  a 
beneficent  ft)rce  working  for  their  welfare  ;  in  this  one  little 
innocent  gratification  of  their  love  of  the  wonderful  he  does 
find  a  reason,  for  believing  that  somebody  loves  them  and 
cares  for  them. 

Such  a  mind  as  that  we  should  call  childish  ;  but  it  is 
exactly  the  same  quality  of  mind  that  discovers  a  clearer 
proof  of  God  in  an  occasional  miracle  than  in  the  orderly 
manifestation  of  his  power  and  goodness  everywhere  in 
nature. 

That  miracles  have  their  use  I  do  not  doubt ;  but  it  is 
only  in  the  childhood  of  the  world  that  they  can  be 
frequently  employed.  Certain  it  is  that  God  does  not  think 
it  wise  to  authenticate  his  revelations  to  men  in  these  days 
by  miracles.  That  is  not  because  he  loves  us  less  than  he 
loved  the  people  of  former  times,  or  because  he  is  unwilling 
to  communicate  his  will  to  us  as  fully  and  clearh'  as  he 
communicated  it  to  them.  He  chooses  for  each  age  such 
methods  of  revelation  as  are  suited  to  the  age ;  to  childish 
ages  he  makes  himself  known  by  those  signs  which  will 
most  clearly  attest  to  them  his  presence  ;  to  more  mature 
and   thoughtful    ages    he   is    revealed    in    ways    altogether 


178  THINGS    i\FAV    AND     OLD. 

different.  And  just  as  soon  as  the  idea  of  the  divineness 
of  natural  law  begins  to  get  possession  of  the  minds  of 
men  the  miracle  begins  to  lose  its  importance  as  a  means 
of  authenticating  divine  messages.  Even  in  the  childish 
ages,  as  we  have  seen,  the  appetite  for  miracles  as  mere 
prodigies,  and  the  tendency  to  forget  all  about  the  spiritual 
lessons  they  are  intended  to  convey,  need  to  be  constantly 
rebuked ;  but  we  who  live  in  an  age  when  the  evidences  of 
of  God  in  the  order  of  the  universe  are  so  many  and  so 
convincing,  shall  deserve  a  severer  condemnation  if  we  join 
ourselves  to  the  multitude  who  are  always  "  seeking  for  a 
sign." 

The  evidential  value  of  miraculous  signs  must  there- 
fore, in  these  days,  be  small ;  and  those  who  covet  them  as 
helps  to  their  faith  must  be  persons  of  weak  faith.  There 
are  numberless  better  and  stronger  reasons  for  believing 
that  God  is,  than  any  miracle  could  show  us.  He  who  asks 
for  a  wonder  to  be  wrought  to  convince  him  of  the  great 
first  truth  of  religion,  is  like  a  man  who  stands  out  of 
doors  under  the  open  sky  of  a  cloudless  noon,  and  asks 
some  one  to  strike  a  match  that  he  may  have  a  little  light 
to  see  by. 

And  if  a  prodigy,  wrought  by  some  unseen  power  in 
physical  nature,  can  have  but  little  effect  upon  our  minds, 
much  less  can  it  reach  and  purify  our  hearts.  Experience 
abundantly  proves  that  the  people  who  are  hungriest  for 
such  prodigies  are  by  no  means  the  hungriest  for  righteous- 
ness. The  addiction  to  the  preternatural  is  commonly  the 
mark  of  a  weak  if  not  a  corrupt  character-.  The  people 
who  are  always  in  pursuit  of  such  signs  and  wonders  are 
not,  as  a  class,  the  people  who  are  the  most  faithful  in  their 


THE    FVriLITY    OF    THE    SENSUOUS.  179 

homes,  the  kindest  to  their  neighbors,  the  most  industrious 
and  orderly  citizens,  the  most  upright  and  honorable 
business  men.  Quite  the  contrary.  And  there  is  nothing 
strange  about  this  ;  for  those  who  give  all  their  thought  to 
mere  physical  prodigies,  as  all  these  are,  must  needs  lose 
their  grasp  of  spiritual  and  moral  truths. 

It  is  by  this  standard  that  we  must  judge  the  alleged 
marvels  of  spiritism.  They  tell  us  great  stories  about  the 
things  that  are  done ;  the  visions,  the  noises,  the  material- 
izations, the  messages :  I  do  not  wish  to  answer  with 
disrespect,  but  I  simply  ask :  "  Well !  what  of  them  ? 
You  have  seen  them  all :  what  good  have  they  done  you  ? 
Have  they  delivered  you  from  one  easily  besetting  sin  ? 
Have  they  helped  you  to  live  a  purer  and  an  honester  and 
a  more  charitable  life  ?  Can  you  point  me  to  a  community 
anywhere,  that  is  addicted  to  these  marvels,  whose  social 
life  has  been  made  cleaner  and  sweeter  and  worthier  by 
means  of  them  ?  If  they  have  no  such  effect,  then  the 
most  marvellous  of  them  are  not  worth  seeing." 

"Ah,"  says  one,  ''  but  they  have  done  this  much  for 
me  ;  they  have  made  future  existence  certain." 

But  what  sort  of  future  existence?  What  kind  of 
people  are  they  whose  existence  is  thus  revealed  to  you  ? 
You  may  have  had  better  success  than  I  in  your  search  for 
truth  or  wisdom  in  their  revelations ;  but  I  have  not  yet 
found  a  gleam  of  genius  or  a  spark  of  high  thought,  or  a 
pulsation  of  noble  feeling  in  all  their  communications.  So 
far  as  we  can  judge  them  from  their  words  they  are  a  set  of 
moon-struck  maunderers  who  mistake  big  words  for  great 
thoughts  and  hifalutin  for  philosophy.  Messages  come  to 
us  which  purport  to  be  the  words  of  men  who  once  lived  on 


180  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

the  earth,  and  who  while  here  had  profound  and  inspiring 
truths  to  tell  us,  and  from  whom  noble  strains  of  music 
and  eloquence  were  wont  to  reach  our  ears.  If  these  words 
that  are  now  repeated  to  us  as  their  words  are  really  theirs, 
then  they  are  rapidly  verging  toward  imbecility.  God 
forbid  that  we  should  continue  to  exist  after  death  if  we 
must  degenerate  after  this  fashion  ! 

As  Dr.  Boynton  says,  in  "  The  Undiscovered  Country  "  : 
"  If  men  live  again,  it  has  been  found  that  they  live  only  in 
a  frivolous  tradition  of  their  life  in  this  world.  Poor 
creatures !  they  seem  lamed  of  half  themselves, —  the 
better  half  that  aspires  and  advances ;  they  hover  in  a 
dull  stagnation,  just  above  this  ball  of  mire;  they  have 
nothing  to  tell  us ;  they  bring  us  no  comfort  and  no 
wisdom.  Annihilation  is  better  than  such  an  immor- 
tality !  " 

So  when  you  tell  me  that  you  have  wonderful 
communications  from  another  world  I  only  ask  you,  What 
of  them  ?  Do  they  tell  you  anything  worth  knowing  ?  Do 
they  show  you  a  life  worth  living  ?  Do  they  quicken  the 
growth  of  trust  and  truth,  of  righteousness  and  love  within 
your  souls  ?  By  such  fruits  as  these  ye  shall  know 
them. 

Again,  there  is  a  lesson  in  this  discussion  for  those  who 
are  always  looking  for  God  in  unusual  places  and  in 
exceptional  manifestations.  It  is  a  childish  conception, 
as  we  have  seen,  that  discovers  God  more  readily  in  an 
interruption  of  nature  than  in  the  order  of  nature.  And 
something  of  this  childishness  shows  itself  in  our  religious 
life.  We  are  fain  to  think  that  the  divine  truth  and  love 
reach   men  only  through  occasional,  unexpected,  irregular 


THE    FUTILITY    OF    THE    SENSUOUS.  181 

channels ;  that  the  spirit  of  God  is  much  more  likely  to 
visit  an  extra  service  than  a  regular  service ;  that  if  we 
leave  our  ordinary  duties  and  go  about  sight  seeing  we 
shall  be  more  sure  to  meet  him  than  if  we  stay  at  home 
and  attend  to  them.  The  fact  is  that  it  is  not  in  the 
miraculous  but  in  the  natural ;  not  in  the  unusual  but  in 
the  ordinary ;  not  in  strange  places  but  in  familiar  places ; 
not  in  hunting  after  extra  duties  but  in  doing  common 
duties  faithfully  that  we  have  the  strongest  reasons  to 
expect  his  presence  and  his  help.  The  one  blessed  and 
comforting  thing  about  God's  grace  is  the  homeliness  of  it ; 
it  is  as  common,  as  close,  as  unobtrusive  as  air  or  sunlight ; 
and  it  shows  a  dull  perception  to  go  about  looking  for  it 
with  much  ado. 

The  things  that  a  man's  real  life  consists  in  are  not  the 
things  that  can  be  seen  with  the  physical  eye.  Truth, 
purity,  love,  these  are  the  only  enduring  possessions ;  and 
these  are  beyond  the  reach  of  our  senses.  Eye  hath  not 
seen  nor  ear  heard  neither  have  entered  into  the  imagina- 
tion of  man  the  things  which  God  hath  prepared  for  them 
that  love  him,  but  God  hath  revealed  them  unto  us  by  his 
Spirit.  Hath  revealed  them ;  not  will  reveal  them.  The 
great  verities  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  are  made  known  to 
men  in  this  world.  All  that  makes  heaven  precious  is 
bestowed  on  us  here ;  but  it  is  not  revealed  to  our  senses ; 
they  who  are  always  looking  for  marvels  never  see  it ; 
spiritual  things  are  spiritually  discerned.  The  faith  that 
cleanses  the  heart  and  gives  us  an  inward  and  abiding  hope 
of  immortality  is  nourished  neither  on  materializations  nor 
on  miracles.  Not  in  looking  on  strange  sights  nor  in 
listening  to  unearthly  noises  is  its  vision   cleared  and  its 


182  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

grasp  of  things  eternal  strengthened ;    it  is  with  different 
faculties  that  it  lays  hold  on  eternity. 

"As  when,  in  silence,  vernal  showers 
Descend  and  cheer  the  fainting  flowers, 
So,  in  the  secresy  of  love, 
Falls  the  sweet  influence  from  above. 
That  heavenly  influence  let  me  find 
In  secret  silence  of  the  mind." 


HOMES  AND  HOW  TO  MAKE  THEM. 


I   Kings  v:    13,   14. 

''And  King  Solomon  raised  a  levy  out  of  all  Israel,  and  the  levy  was 
thirty  thousand  men.  And  he  sent  them  to  Lebanon,  ten  thousand 
a  month  by  courses ;  a  month  they  were  in  Lebanon,  and  two 
months  at  home." 

Solomon,  the  son  of  David,  had  just  ascended  the 
throne  of  his  father  and  had  set  himself  about  the  building 
of  a  temple  at  Jerusalem.  An  alliance  with  the  neighbor- 
ing king  of  Tyre  had  been  negotiated,  by  which  Solomon 
had  secured  a  large  force  of  skilled  workmen  to  superntend 
the  erection  of  this  great  structure ;  and  thirty  thousand 
of  the  Hebrews  had  been  detailed  to  assist  the  Tyrian 
artisans.  But  these  thirty  thousand  were  not,  as  the  text 
informs  us,  all  to  labor  continuously  upon  the  work. 
Solomon  divided  them  into  three  courses,  or  reliefs,  and 
sent  them  to  Lebanon,  where  the  timber  was  preparing,  ten 
thousand  a  month  ;  so  that  each  of  these  three  divisions 
was  one  month  at  Lebanon  and  two  months  at  home. 

Probably  no  work  was  ever  undertaken  to  which  greater 
sacredness  or  importance  was  attached  than  this  work  of 
building  the  temple  at  Jerusalem.     The  men  who  wrought 


18 Jf.  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

upon  that  edifice  were,  no  doubt,  impressed  with  the  belief 
that  they  would  never  be  called  to  any  public  service  more 
holy  or  more  momentous.  And  yet,  by  the  direction  of 
their  king,  these  men  were  required  to  devote  to  the 
performance  of  their  home  duties  twice  as  much  time  as 
they  devoted  to  this  saci'ed  and  honorable  public  work. 
The  inference  is  not  unwarrantable  that,  Solomon  being 
judge,  the  home  is  holier  than  the  temple;  that  the  duties 
which  belong  to  home  are  more  urgent  than  those  which 
belong  to   any  other  station. 

The  Thanksgiving  day  is  the  home  festival;  more  and 
more  it  is  taking  on  this  character.  The  public  and 
national  uses  of  the  day  are  not  neglected,  and  will  not  be ; 
but  the  emphasis  of  the  observance  rests'  upon  the  domestic 
festivities.  It  is  a  day  for  the  reunion  of  scattered  families, 
for  the  renewing  upon  the  household  altar  of  the  flames 
of  parental  and  filial  love.  Therefore  I  shall  be  justified 
in  seeking  to  draw  your  thoughts  toward  the  building  and 
ruling  of  the  home. 

Every  human  being  ought  to  be  a  member  of  some 
household,  and  every  household  ought  to  have  a  fixed  place 
of  residence,  a  place  of  its  own  —  in  one  word,  both  short 
and  sweet,  a  home.  That  is  the  only  right  way  of  living. 
A  home  is,  for  every  human  being,  the  first  condition  of  the 
highest  happiness  and  the  best  growth.  No  one  ought  to 
be  satisfied  until  he  has  supplied  it  for  himself.  Probably 
a  larger  proportion  of  the  people  of  this  country  than 
of  any  other  have  homes  of  their  own.  Yet  the  homes  of 
New  England  and  of  America  do  not  co'ntain  all  the 
population.  There  are  among  us  a  multitude  of  homeless 
ones.      Of  these  there  are  several  sorts. 


HOMES    ASD    HOW    TO    MAKE     THEM.  ISo 

First,  there  are  the  sturdy  tramps,  who  go  wandering 
about  from  city  to  city  and  from  hamlet  to  hamlet,  stopping 
where  night  finds  them,  and  quite  literally  obeying  the 
Scripture  which  bids  us  take  no  thought  for  the  morrow. 
The  sudden  and  large  increase  in  this  class  of  our  popula- 
tion is  somewhat  alarming.  The  complaint  of  their 
presence  is  heard  everywhere.  Doubtless  the  division  of 
labor,  and  the  disturbances  created  by  the  shifting  of  our 
industries  may  partly  explain  this  evil  growth ;  but  we 
must  remember  that  evils  are  in  this  way  set  on  foot  which 
are  not  easily  subdued.  When  men  take  up  the  trade 
of  vagrancy,  they  are  too  apt  to  follow  it  as  long  as  they 
live.  We  cannot  afford  to  have  this  subdivision  of  our 
homeless   class   increase. 

Next  are  the  gypsies,  that  dusky  race  from  over  the 
seas,  who  have  managed  for  so  many  years  to  puzzle  the 
ethnologists  and  frighten  the  children;  scarcely  a  town  in 
the  land  but  has  them  now  and  then  for  a  nine  days' 
wonder,  —  camping  in  the  suburbs,  peddling  their  small 
wares  from  house  to  house,  with  maledictions  muttered 
between  clenched  teeth  upon  those  who  will  not  buy ; 
passing  through  the  village  streets  quite  unconscious  of 
inquisitive  and  suspicious  glances  that  greet  them ;  and 
never,  I  suppose,  feeling  a  pang  of  regret  as  they  look  upon 
the  pleasant  homes  where  families  live  from  generation  to 
generation.  Here -is  a  whole  race  that  for  centuries  has 
been  homeless,  and  for  that  reason  has  no  history,  no 
literature,  not  much  religion  if  any,  and  hardly  any 
knowledge  of  the  arts  of  civilization.  Such  possessions 
and  acquirements  as  these  are  scarcely  within  the  reach 
of   people  who   have   no  homes. 


186  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

Next  after  the  gypsies  there  is  a  considerable  class 
of  persons  who  are  too  restless  to  stay  long  in  any  place, 
and  whose  lives  are  spent  in  constant  migrations  from  one 
place  to  another ;  who  tarry  nowhere  long  enough  to  get 
wanted.  Some  of  them  are  poor,  and,  because  rolling 
stones  gather  no  moss,  they  are  continually  growing 
poorer ;  others  are  well-to-do,  but  their  anxiety  to  do 
better  keeps  them  constantly  in  motion.  Our  floating 
population^ — that  part  of  our  population  which  is  con- 
tinually afloat  —  is  very  large,  as  any  pastor  in  a  city  like 
this   soon    finds. 

Somewhere  in  this  category  I  am  afraid  that  we  must 
put  the  clergy.  As  a  class,  they  are  wanderers.  There  is  a 
wide  difference  between  the  theories  of  different  denomina- 
tions about  this  matter,  but  the  difference  in  the  practice  is 
not  so  wide.  The  blame  of  this  unsettled  condition  of 
clerical  life  is  partly  with  the  people  and  partly  with  the 
minister.  Sometimes  the  people  become  dissatisfied.  The 
pews  are  not  all  rented ;  the  debts  are  not  all  paid  ;  the 
Sunday-school  classes  want  teachers  ;  the  prayer-meeting  is 
not  so  full  nor  so  interesting  as  it  ought  to  be ;  there  are 
not  many  conversions,  and  they  themselves  are  not  stirred 
up  to  duty  as  they  ought  to  be ;  therefore,  "  Go  to,"  they 
say,  "  let  us  dismiss  our  minister.  He  is  the  man  whom  we 
employ  to  get  all  these  things  done,  and,  since  they  are  not 
done,  we  will  make  it  either  hot  or  cold  for  him  until  he 
takes  the  hint  and  goes  away."  That  is  the  way  they 
sometimes  manage  it.  But  sometimes  the  minister  himself 
is  restless;  does  not  know  when  he  is  w'ell  off;  thinks 
because  certain  individuals  in  his  parish  are  afflicted  with 
an  infirmity  popularly  known   as  human  nature,  therefore 


HOMES    AND    HOW    TO    MAKE    THEM.  187 

he  will  go  away  in  search  of  a  parish  in  which  there  shall 
be  no  human  nature.  We  all  know  where  that  pilgrimage 
ends. 

Next  after  the  floating  population  comes  that  large 
class  of  persons  who  have  a  local  residence  but  not  a  local 
habitation ;  who  continue  to  live  in  the  same  community, 
but  do  not  live  in  homes ;  who  make  their  abode  in  such 
public  residences  as  hotels  or  boarding  houses.  Now,  as 
respects  these,  it  must  be  said  that  many  of  them  are 
compelled  to  adopt  this  manner  of  life.  Young  men  and 
women  whose  homes  have  been  broken  up  by  the  death 
of  their  parents,  or  who  have  been  called  forth  from  the 
habitation  of  their  childhood  to  seek  education  and  liveli- 
hood in  distant  places,  cannot,  of  course,  have  homes  of 
their  own.  In  every  large  town  there  is  a  considerable 
number  of  these  young  persons,  and  the  sympathies  of 
Christian  people  are  often  appealed  to  in  their  behalf. 
How  to  reach  them,  how  to  shelter  and  to  save  them  is  a 
problem  to  which  we  are  constantly  summoned.  Various 
public  provisions  for  their  entertainment  and  diversion  are 
suggested;  reading-rooms,  Holly-tree  inns  and  the  Hke ; 
and  these  are  all  well  in  their  way,  but  the  kindest  thing 
of  all  would  be,  if  we  could  do  it,  to  introduce  every  one 
of  them  into  some  good,  orderly  household.  Homes  are 
what  these  young  people  need  more  than  anything  else. 
Reading  rooms  are  good,  and  other  good  places  of  resort 
may  be  provided,  but  there  is  no  place  like  home.  Many 
of  us  are  so  circumstanced  that  we  cannot  enlarge  our 
families,  but  where  it  can  be  done,  it  is  one  of  the  best 
ways  of  doing  good.  You  remember  that  incident  that  was 
current  in  the  form  of  verse,  not  many  years  ago,  about  the 


188  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

young  man  who  had  died  and  who  was  being  buried  among 
strangers,  to  whose  coffin  a  kind  lady  came  just  before  it 
was  closed,  saying,  "  Let  me  kiss  him  for  his  mother." 
That  was  a  very  beautiful  thing  to  think  of  and  to  do ;  but 
let  us  not  wait,  my  friends,  until  these  young  men  and 
women  are  dead  before  we  show  our  interest  in  them.  The 
mother  will  thank  you  far  more  for  sa^ang  a  kind  word 
to  her  boy  while  he  is  yet  alive,  or  for  supplying  to  him,  as 
well  as  you  can,  that  motherly  service  which  she  longs 
to  bestow  upon  him,  than  for  kissing  his  cold  forehead 
in  his  coffin.  And  the  good  Master  himself,  who  knows  all 
about  the  hardships  of  homelessness,  will  tell  you  at  last 
that,  inasmuch  as  you  have  done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of 
these,  you   have  done   it  unto   Him ! 

Besides  these  homeless  young  men  and  women  who 
constitute  so  large  a  class  in  all  our  larger  towns,  there 
are  many  others,  not  young,  whose  lives  are  spent  in  hotels 
and  boarding-houses.  Some  of  these  are  prevented  by 
impaired  health,  or  other  sufficient  reasons,  from  assuming 
the  care  of  a  home.  It  is  sometimes  necessary  to  live 
in  this  manner,  but  the  necessity  is  to  be  deplored.  I 
know  that  some  of  those  who  have  in  charge  these  public 
dwellings  do  exert  -themselves  to  furnish  to  those  who  live 
with  them  as  many  as  possible  of  the  comforts  and  enjo}'- 
ments  of  home,  and  this  is  a  very  praiseworthy  endeavor. 
I  have  myself  experienced  much  kindness  at  the  hands 
of  persons  of  this  class,  in  former  days.  Nevertheless,  life 
in  public  dwellings  is  a  poor  substitute  for  home  life.  It  is 
in  the  nature  of  the  case  quite  impossible  that  one  should 
find  the  freedom,  the  seclusion  and  the  repose  of  home 
anywhere  away  from  home.     The  organizing  principle  of 


HOMES    AND    HOW    TO    MAKE    THEM.  189 

the  hotel  or  the  boarding-house  is  "business."  Sometimes 
this  hard  fact  is  greatly  mitigated  by  the  good  nature  of 
the  landlord  or  the  landlady  ;  but  it  is  the  fact  after  all. 
Of  course  it  is.  They  are  not  actuated  wholly,  or  mainly, 
by  charitable  considerations.  It  is  a  way  they  have  taken 
to  earn  a  livelihood,  or  to  increase  tlieir  income.  If  the 
business  did  not  pay,  they  would  not  follow  it.  That  is  no 
discredit  to  them.  It  is  a  necessary  and  even  honorable 
business  ;  and  they  are  no  more  selfish  in  their  pursuit  of  it 
than  other  human  beings  are  in  the  pursuit  of  gain. 

The  organizing  principle  of  the  home  must  be,  on 
the  other  hand,  good- will  and  affection.  The  interest 
which  its  inmates  have  in  each  other  is  not  a  commercial 
but  a  benevolent  interest.  The  question  with  each  is,  not 
"  How  can  I  get  the  most  pecuniary  advantage  out  of  this 
relation?"  but  rather  ''What  can  I  do  to  increase  the 
conmion  welfare  and  the  common  happiness?"  The  law 
of  the  home  life  is  the  law  of  love ;  and,  although  it  is 
often  indifierently  obeyed,  it  is  always  the  recognized  ideal. 
Surely  the  atmosphere  of  the  dwelling  in  which  love  is 
the  law  must  be  the  best  atmosphere  for  any  human  being 
to  live  in.  Those  who  are  at  present  obliged  to  live  in 
these  public  dwellings  will  never,  therefore,  I  trust,  come 
to  regard  it  as  the  proper  way  of  living,  but  always 
recognize  it  as  their  misfortune  —  to  be  borne,  while  it 
must,  with  becoming  patience.  If  the  opportunity  of 
making  themselves  a  home  ever  comes  to  them,  let  them 
joyfully  embrace  it,  knowing  that  the  best  of  all  worldly 
fortunes  is  thus  put  within  their  reach. 

One  reason  why  every  young  man  and  woman  setting 
out  in  life  together  ought  to  have  a  home  of   their  own 


190  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

is  found  in  the  fact  that  they  can  gratify  their  tastes  and 
manifest  the  life  that  is  in  them  in  no  other  way.  Of 
course  they  will  consult  their  own  preferences  in  arranging 
for  themselves  this  home.  If  they  build  the  house,  they 
will  build  it  after  their  own  notions  ;  they  will  put  into  it 
their  own  thought  and  feeling.  The  house  represents  them. 
The  building  of  a  house  is  thus  often  an  important  part 
of  a  man's  education.  His  constructiveness  and  his  judg- 
ment are  greatly  strengthened  by  the  exercise.  Wisdom  is 
sometimes  dearly  bought  in  this  way,  it  is  true,  but  wisdom 
that  costs  the  most  is  commonly  worth  the  most.  If, 
instead  of  building  the  home,  the  couple  only  furnish  and 
arrange  it  to  suit  themselves,  that  is_  a  pleasant  and  a 
useful  work.  There  will  be  limits  to  their  expenditures, 
and  many  things  which  they  desire  they  will  not  be  able  to 
obtain,  but  these  limitations  will  not  arise  out  of  the  taste 
or  the  will  of  somebody  else.  Their  surroundings  will  be 
more  perfectly  adjusted  to  their  own  wants.  There  will 
be  a  greater  measure  of  harmony  between  their  life  and 
their  conditions  than  would  be  possible  under  any  other 
circumstances. 

Another,  and  the  strongest  justification  of  the  home 
life,  is  in  the  fact  that  there  are  certain  affections  of  the 
soul  that  can  be  developed  in  no  other  manner  of  life.  The 
domestic  virtues  and  graces  are  not  easily  described  or 
catalogued,  but  they  form  an  important  part  of  the  best 
human  character.  There  are  sentiments,  sympathies,  habi- 
tudes of  thought,  which  are  native  to  the  home,  and  which 
are  essential  to  the  best  growth  and  highest  development 
of  human  beings.  Domesticity  gives  to  every  beautiful 
character   an   added  charm.      No  man   is  trulv   good  who 


HOMES    AND    HOW    TO    MAKE    THEM.  191 

is  not  good  at  home ;  and  the  best  men  are  always  best  on 
the  side  that  touches  home.  Home  is  the  school  where 
human  beings  learn  how  to  be  tender  and  pitiful,  patient 
and  forbearing;  how  to  turn  duty  into  joy  and  self-denial 
into  a  sweet  and  pleasant  sacrifice.  For  the  cultivation 
of  these  higher  forms  of  morality  there  is  no  place  like 
home.  Hospitality,  one  of  the  oldest  and  most  beautiful 
of  human  virtues,  is  of  course  impossible  to  one  who  has 
no  home. 

Public  spirit  is  fed  and  fostered  at  the  fireside.  The 
man  who  has  a  home  of  his  own  is  interested  that  the 
community  in  which  he  lives  should  be  lacking  in  nothing 
that  could  help  to  make  it  desirable  as  a  place  of  residence. 
He  who  makes  himself  a  householder  by  that  act  gives  a 
hostage  to  society  for  his  good  behavior  and  his  devotion  to 
public  interests.  Patriotism,  too,  has  its  foundations  laid 
upon  the  hearthstones  of  the  land.  The  patriot's  love  for 
his  country  is  rooted  and  grounded  in  his  love  for  his 
home.  He  knows  that  every  assault  upon  the  peace  and 
prosperity  of  his  country  is  an  indirect  assault  upon  his 
home,  threatening  its  securit}'  and  its  permanence.  Every 
new  tribute  of  honor  paid  to  his  land,  every  new  element  of 
strength  added  to  it,  helps  to  make  his  home  a  surer  and  a 
dearer  possession.  You  may  estimate  the  strength  of  a 
nation  by  the  number  of  its  homes  and  the  measure  of  the 
development  of  the  domestic  sentiments.  The  larger  is  the 
proportion  of  the  population  which  dAvells  in  homes,  the 
more  nearly  invinciljle  is  that  nation  by  internal  foes  or  by 
foreign  enemies. 


192  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

,  "  '  Measure  the  frontiers! '  shall  it  be  said? 
'Count  the  ships,'  in  national  vanity? 
Count  the  nation's  heart-beats  sooner!" 

And  for  the  nation's  heart-beats  you  nmst  listen  in  the 
nation's  homes.  When  the  great  mass  of  the  people  are 
not  only  householders  but  freeholders  —  when  they  own  the 
homes  they  live  in  —  the  sentiment  of  patriotism  finds  its 
intensest  development.  It  is  quite  impossible  that  any 
considerable  government,  whose  domain  is  parceled  out  in 
small  estates,  owned  by  the  people  who  occupy  them, 
should  be  overthrown  by  seditions  or  conquered  by  rival 
powers.  And  therefore,  that  the  national  life  may  be 
invigorated,  and  the  bond  of  union  strengthened,  wise 
statesmen  will  in  all  possible  ways  encourage  the  people  in 
making  themselves  possessors  of  the  homes  in  which  they 
dwell. 

One  prime  cause  of  the  strength  of  the  North  and  the 
weakness  of  the  South  in  the  late  war  lay  just  here.  The 
northern  armies,  to  a  far  greater  extent  than  the  southern, 
were  composed  of  men  who  were  fighting  for  their  homes 
and  firesides.  It  was  a  conflict  between  two  hostile  politi- 
cal systems,  and  the  northern  soldiers  knew  it.  The  very 
watchword  of  the  northern  civilization  was  and  is  "  Free 
homes  for  all."  The  southern  civilization  provided  no 
homes  for  any  but  the  aristocratic  classes.  That  was,  at 
any  rate,  the  tendency  of  things  in  that  quarter.  The 
North  meant  diffusion  of  wealth  ;  the  South  meant  central- 
ization. It  was  a  square  fight  between  the  'plantation  and 
the  farm ;  between  the  home  of  the  northern  freeholder  on 
the  one  side,  and  the  poor  white's  squatter  shanty  and  the 


HOMES    AND    HOW    TO    MAKE    THEM.  193 

slave's  hovel  on  the  other.  The  issue  to  he  decided  was 
whether  the  system  of  large  estates  and  privileged  classes 
should  overrun  all  the  western  territories  and  finally  the 
northern  states,  or  whether  the  system  of  small  freeholds 
and  equal  rights  should  overspread  the  impoverished 
southern  plains.  That  was  the  question  that  was  settled  by 
the  war,  and  settled  the  right  way. 

The  strength  of  the  home-sentiment  in  the  heart  of  the 
soldier  is  well  illustrated  by  the  story  of  that  loyal  East 
Tennessean,  told  by  himself  to  his  nurse  in  the  hospital : 
"  They  watched  us  a  long  time,"  he  said,  "  me  and  some 
others.  They  thought  we  was  a-goin'  for  the  Union.  We 
had  made  up  our  minds  what  to  do.  One  night  we  went 
off.  We  made  for  where  we  thought  the  army  was.  Tlie 
first  night,  we  stayed  in  the  woods.  I  laid  the  fire  before 
I  went.  I  laid  her  a  good  fire.  At  daylight  we  got  to  the 
top  of  the  mountain,  where  we  could  look  down  on  our 
homes  behind  us.  They  were  getting  up  and  building  the 
fires.  I  saw  my  little  home.  The  smoke  was  coming  out 
of  the  chimney.  She  had  to  light  it  herself.  I  sat  down 
on  a  flat  rock  and  looked  down  into  the  valley.  I  wanted 
to  see  if  the  fire  burned.  Well  (with  a  long  sigh)  it  was 
my  home.  I  suppose  it  was  as  sacred  to  me  as  any  other 
man's  home  to  him.  But  I  had  to  turn  my  back  on  it  — 
me  and  the  others." 

No  one  who  ever  carried  tidings  from  the  home  to  the 
camp  needs  to  be  told  that  this  love  of  home  was  in  the 
hearts  of  many  of  the  men  in  the  ranks  a  continual  inspir- 
ation. And  an  army  composed  of  such  soldiers  never  can 
be  conquered. 

Such,   then,    are    some   of    the    uses   of    the   home    in 


IQJf  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

developing  individual  and  national  virtues.  I  presume 
that,  to  most  of  you,  the  effort  I  have  made  to  set  forth  the 
benefits  of  the  home-life  has  seemed  rather  a  labor  of 
love  than  a  labor  of  necessity.  Most  of  you  are  sufficiently 
convinced  already  of  the  advantages  of  such  a  manner  of 
life,  and  those  who  are  now  dwelling  in  other  habitations 
are,  no  doubt,  cherishing  the  expectation  that  you  will 
sometime  have  homes  of  your  own.  Never  lose  your  grasp 
upon  that  possibility.  But,  when  you  have  secured  for 
yourself  a  home,  what  shall  it  be  ?  How  will  you  build 
it  —  not  merely  the  walls  and  the  partitions,  but  also  the 
invisible  spiritual  temple,  of  which  this  outer  structure  is 
only  the  shrine  ? 

Your  home  will  be  a  place  of  comfort  and  repose. 
That,  of  course.  You  will  take  delight  in  contriving  all  its 
appointments  so  that  the  burdens  of  toil  shall  rest  as 
lightly  as  possible  upon  those  who  have  the  ordering  of  it ; 
you  will  find  pleasure  in  furnishing  and  arranging  it,  so  far 
as  you  can,  in  such  manner  that  gloom  and  cheerlessness 
shall  be  excluded,  and  it  shall  seem  to  be  a  true  haven  of 
rest  and  good  cheer  to  all  upon  whom  its  hospitable  doors 
shall  open. 

Your  home  will  be  a  school  of  culture.  I  do  not  mean 
that  you  will  fill  it  with  pedagogic  instruments  and 
appliances  ;  but  it  will  be  so  arranged  as  to  educate  by 
impression  those  who  dwell  within  it.  Probably  few  of  us 
are  fully  aware  how  sensitive  we  are  to  the  influence  of 
external  objects.  A  minister  travelling  in  Vermont  entered 
a  farm-house,  and  fell  into  conversation  witli  a  farmer  and 
his  wife,  persons  in  middle  age.  He  inquired  for  their 
children,  and  learned  that  they  had    four  boys,  and  that 


HOMES    AND    HOW    TO    MAKE    THEM.  195 

they  are  all  at  sea,  following  the  hard  trade  of  the  sailor. 
"  But  how  happened  it,"  asked  the  minister,  "  that  your 
boys  should  take  such  a  fancy  ?  They  never  lived  by  the 
sea-shore."  The  good  people  could  offer  no  explanation 
whatever.  It  was  simply  a  notion,  they  said,  and  a  strange 
one,  they  had  always  thought,  but  it  was  a  very  strong  one, 
and  they  had  found  it  impossible  to  dissuade  the  boys  from 
their  purpose.  But,  pretty  soon,  the  minister  was  invited 
into  the  little  room  which  served  the  family  for  parlor,  and 
there,  hanging  over  the  mantlepiece,  the  only  picture  in  the 
room,  was  a  magnificent  engraving  of  a  ship  under  full  sail. 
The  parents  said  it  had  been  hanging  there  ever  since  their 
boys  were  little  children.  Who  could  doubt  that  the  daily 
sight  of  this  beautiful  picture  had  had  much  to  do  in 
inflaming  the  passions  of  these  farmer's  boys  for  the  sea- 
faring life  ?  This  is  hardly  an  exaggerated  instance  of  the 
effects  produced  upon  our  lives  by  the  objects  that  sur- 
round us.  Very  much  of  our  education  comes  thus,  by 
impression.  And,  therefore,  for  the  sake  of  cultivating,  in 
this  indirect  way,  grace  and  nobility  of  spirit  in  its  inmates, 
every  home  should  be  made,  without  and  within,  as  beauti- 
ful as  possible.  A  vast  amount  of  money  is  expended  in 
dressing  and  in  pampering  the  appetite  which  might  with 
a  truer  economy  be  spent  in  adorning  the  home.  Of  all 
places  the  home  should  be  made  the  most  attractive.  Noth- 
ing that  art  can  do  to  increase  the  power  of  the  spell  by 
which  it  binds  us  should  be  left  undone.  The  beauty 
that  finds  expression  in  sound,  as  well  as  the  beauty  that 
reveals  itself  in  form  and  color,  will  be  domiciled  in  your 
home.  Good  instruments  of  music  are  not  only  means 
of  enjoyment  but  means  of  grace,  oftentimes.     Books  will 


196  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

abound  in  your  home.  The  library  will  be  one  of  its 
choicest  rooms.  Upon  its  shelves  will  be  found  a  careful 
collection,  all  the  while  growing,  of  books,  old  and  new. 
You  will  curtail  your  expenses  in  many  other  directions 
sooner  than  in  that.  "  When  I  get  a  little  money,"  said 
Hugo  Grotius,  "  I  buy  books ;  if  I  have  any  left,  I  buy 
food  and  clothes."  You  will  not  fall  into  the  delusion  that 
the  body  is  alone  worthy  of  your  care,  and  spend  all  your 
time  in  getting  food  to  satisfy  its  unhealthy  cravings, 
and  garments  of  beauty  to  deck  it  withal,  neglecting  to 
provide  stimulus  and  nutriment  for  the  mind.  You  will 
not  imitate  the  folly  of  those  whose  larders  are  always 
crammed  with  all  manner  of  edibles,  digestible  and  indi- 
gestible, but  to  whose  stock  of  mental  pabulum  not  a 
single  book  is  added  from  one  year's  end  to  another.  In 
short,  you  will  remember  that  your  home  is  for  your  spirit, 
at  least  as  much  as  for  your  body,  and  you  will  try  to  make 
it  minister  to  your  higher  nature  quite  as  liberally  as  to 
your  lower  nature. 

Your  home  will  also  be  a  place  of  enjoyment.  Inno- 
cent play  will  often  be  in  order.  If  there  are  young  folks 
in  the  house,  they  will  more  easily  be  kept  at  home  by 
liberal  provision  in  this  direction  than  in  any  other  way. 
There's  no  place  like  home  for  the  young  folks,  especially  in 
the  evening ;  and  everything  that  can  be  properly  done 
should  be  done  to  make  the  home  the  pleasantest  place  in 
the  world  for  them.  The  grown  people  should  not  only 
tolerate  the  children's  pastimes,  they  should  participate  in 
them  for  their  own  sakes,  as  well  as  for  the  children's.  If 
every  day  they  would  unbend  a  little,  throwing  off  the 
stateliness  of  the  street  and  the  drawing-room,  dismissing 


HOMES    AND    HOW    TO    MAKE    THEM.  197 

care  and  labor  and  joining  with  the  children  in  some 
merry,  rollicking  sport,  they  would  renew  their  youth 
every  day. 

Finally,  your  home,  when  it  is  builded,  will  be,  I  trust, 
a  sanctuary  of  religion.  There  will  be  an  altar  there  on 
which,  every  day,  the  sacrifices  of  prayer  and  praise  will  be 
laid.  You  will  not  try  to  keep  a  house  without  having  God 
in  it.  You  will  not  go  on  from  year  to  year  partaking  of 
the  blessings  of  the  Heavenly  Father,  and  never  thanking 
him  for  them.  You  will  not  forget  to  place  it  as  one  of  the 
daily  lessons  before  every  inmate  of  the  house  that  there  is 
another  and  a  better  home,  of  which  this  earthly  habitation 
is  but  an  imperfect  type,  a  home  into  which  there  shall  in 
no  wise  enter  anything  that  defileth,  neither  whatsoever 
worketh  abomination  or  maketh  a  lie,  but  they  which  are 
written  in  the  Lamb's  book  of  life.  The  children  of  your 
household  Vill  remember,  when  they  are  grown  up,  that 
their  first  impressions  of  the  Christian  life,  and  their 
strongest  impulses  to  enter  upon  it,  were  furnished  them  in 
their  earliest  years  at  home.  I  know  that  I  am  speaking  of 
that  which  ought  to  be,  and  I  fear  that  I  am  also  speaking 
of  that  which  with  some  of  you  is  not.  There  are,  I  am 
afraid,  before  me  dwellers  in  some  homes  where  God  is 
never  acknowledged.  They  know  that  this  is  wrong,  but  it 
is  a  wrong  that  they  have  been  slow  in  redressing.  I 
beseech  you,  therefore,  by  the  mercies  of  God,  that  you 
delay  no  longer.  Shall  not  the  voice  of  thanksgiving  and 
of  consecrating  prayer  be  heard  in  your  home,  to-day  ? 

Such  homes  as  this  which  I  have  been  describing, 
filled  with  comfort,  adorned  with  beauty,  cheered  by  all 
manner  of  innocent  pleasures,  warm   with  filial   love  and 


198  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

beautiful  with  heavenly  light,  most  of  us  have  seen.    Happy 
indeed  are  we,  if  in  such  homes  our  lives  are  spent ! 

I  should  hope  to  be  delivered  from  so  mean  a  passion 
as  envy ;  but  one  who  has  been  for  the  greater  part  of  his 
life  a  pilgrim  and  a  stranger  can  hardly  look  without  some 
stragglings  between  desire  and  regret  upon  those  homes 
where  the  same  household  has  dwelt  beneath  the  same 
roof  for  scores  of  years ;  where  a  whole  generation  has 
grown  up  from  infancy  to  maturity,  passing  forth  at  length 
to  other  homes ;  where  still  the  aged  parents  dwell  in  peace, 
and  whither,  on  this  Thanksgiving  day,  the  children  with 
their  several  broods  of  grandchildren  return,  to  fill  the  old 
house  again  with  the  light  of  love  and  the  melodious  mirth 
of  prattling  voices.  What  a  treasure,  to  all  time,  such  a 
home  must  be  to  every  one  to  whom  it  has  ever  belonged  ! 
With  how  many  memories  it  is  stocked  !  How  rich  are  its 
stores  of  sweet  association  !  Here  is  the  mother's  chamber 
—  is  there  any  sanctuary  more  sacred?  Here  she  has  knelt 
to  pray  —  how  often  !  —  for  the  children  God  had  given  her; 
here,  for  many  waking  hours  of  darkness,  she  has  pondered 
their  bright  sayings,  and  grieved  over  their  misdeeds,  and 
laid  her  loving  plans  for  their  well-being.  Pause  upon  this 
threshold !  Let  the  head  be  uncovered ;  let  the  lips  be 
mute!  It  is  the  holiest  place!  Here  is  the  old  parlor  — 
these  matrons  coming  home  to-day  can  remember  when 
they,  in  their  maidenhood,  sat  in  this  quaint  old  room, 
embellished  then  as  now  with  many  devices  of  their  own 
hands,  and  listened  with  beating  hearts  to  the  unfolding  of 
their  life's  romance ;  can  remember,  too,  the  time  when  the 
bride,  adorned  for  her  husband,  here  pronounced  those 
solemn  words  which  fixed  her  earthly  destiny.     And  there 


HOMES    AND    HOW    TO    MAKE    THEM.   .  199 

are  sober  recollections  here,  to-day ;  memories  of  times 
when  in  waywardness  or  in  rebellion  these  children  laid 
heavy  burdens  upon  the  hearts  of  their  parents.  Doubtless 
the  furrows  in  these  cheeks  are  deeeper,  and  these  decrepit 
bodies  stoop  and  totter  more,  to-day,  because  of  those 
offenses.  It  must  be,  too,  that  the  grandparents  themselves, 
looking  upon  the  fathers  and  mothers,  who,  but  a  little 
while  ago,  were  making  the  house  merry  with  their  childish 
laughter,  can  remember  harsh  and  arbitrary  commands  of 
theirs,  which  galled  the  spirits  of  their  children ;  moments 
of  fretfulness  and  impatience;  errors  of  judgment  in  their 
parental  government,  over  which  they  grieved  in  days  gone 
by.  Such  remembrances  as  these,  while  they  are  not  joyous 
but  grievous,  nevertheless  work  in  the  soul  the  peaceable 
fruits  of  righteousness.  With  humbled  and  softened  hearts 
they  are  recalled,  and  parents  and  children  speak  to  each 
in  kinder  tones  because  of  them. 

There  are  other  memories  !  While  the  circle  is  sitting 
round  the  fire  on  this  glad  Thanksgiving  day,  recounting 
the  things  that  are  behind,  there  comes  a  moment  of 
silence.  They  are  all  thinking  of  those  days  gone  by  that 
were  so  dark ;  when  the  noises  of  the  children  were  hushed, 
and  an  unwonted  stillness  filled  the  house ;  when  the 
doctor,  connnonly  so  chatty  and  so  cheerful,  came  often 
and  went  away  looking  very  sober;  when  at  length  there 
was  no  more  need  of  anxious  watching,  and  the  household 
bowed  down  by  the  bed-side,  while  "the  minister  knelt  and 
in  tremulous  tones  lifted  up  the  voice  of  prayer,  that  it 
might  steal  in  when  the  gates  of  heaven  opened  to  receive 
the  soul  departing,  and  bring  back  comfort  and  support  to 
the  stricken  ones  left  behind  ;   when  the  neighbors  came  in 


200  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

and  took  as  much  as  they  could  bear  of  the  burden  of 
sorrow,  tenderly  closing  the  sightless  eyes  and  folding  the 
helpless  hands ;  when  the  last  look  was  taken  and  the  last 
benediction  spoken  at  the  grave  —  it  all  comes  back,  to-day, 
as  vivid  and  real  as  though  it  were  yesterday  I  The  scent 
of  the  white  roses  that  were  scattered  then  so  thickly 
through  these  rooms  has  not  yet  quite  departed.  And  yet 
this  is  not  a  ghastly  memory.  It  hallows  and  endears  the 
home.  The  family  altar  is  never  truly  sanctified  till  the 
chrism  of   a  great  sorrow  has  been   poured   upon  it. 

Consecrated  by  such  sorrows,  endeared  by  such  joys, 
hallowed  by  the  affection  of  which  they  are  the  shrine, 
fragrant. with  the  incense  of  prayer  and  praise,  all  glorious 
within  by  reason  of  the  immortal  hopes  that  cluster  round 
their  altars,  may  the  homes  be  in  which  you  dwell,  good 
neighbors,  every  one  !  So  shall  the  dearest  spot  on  earth 
prove  only  as  the  porter's  lodge  standing  by  the  entrance  of 
the  fair  gardens  of  the  Palace  Beautiful ;  and  when  at  last 
the  silver  cord  is  loosed,  and  through  the  mists  of  life's  last 
hour  the  light  of  a  better  morning  breaks,  they  who  stand 
by  shall  hear  you  saying,  "  This  is  none  other  but  the  house 
of  God,  and  this  is  the  gate  of  heaven." 


PRAYING   IN   CHRIST'S   NAME. 

John   xiv:    14. 
"7/  ye  shall  ask  angtJiing  in  my  name,  I  will  do  it." 

These  words  of  our  Lord,  several  times  repeated  in 
his  last  conversation  with  his  disciples,  constitute  the 
charter  of  that  great  company  of  believers  to  whom  prayer 
is  a  daily  vocation  and  a  practical  power  in  life.  Those 
who  suppose  that  something  is  really  effected  by  means 
of  prayer  —  that  it  is  a  method  of  procuring  benefits  that 
would  not  otherwise  come  to  us  —  refer  to  these  specific 
promises  of  our  Lord  more  frequently  than  to  any  other 
Scripture,  as  their  reason  and  warrant  for  praying.  Here, 
they  say,  is  an  assurance  that  lacks  nothing  of  definiteness 
nor  of  comprehensiveness.  "If  ye  shall  ask  anything 
in  my  name  I  will  do  it."  If  we  believe  that  he  who  spoke 
these  words  always  spoke  the  truth,  and  has  all  power 
in  heaven  and  on  earth,  then  we  may  ask  what  we  will 
and  it  shall  be  done  for  us,  providing  we  ask  in  his  name. 
It  becomes,  then,  a  matter  of  great  importance  to  know 
exactly  what  is  meant  by   praying  in  Christ's  name. 

In  the  common  acceptation,  the  phrase  "in  my  name" 
means  the  same  thing  as  "  for  my  sake  "  or    "  on  my  ac- 


202  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

count."  The  common  notion  seems  to  be  that  if  we  present 
ourselves  before  the  Infinite  Majesty  with  any  request  and 
make  use  of  this  formula,  "In  Christ's  name"  or  "For 
Christ's  sake,"  our  requests  will  be  granted,  no  matter 
what  they  may  be.  I  have  often  heard  this  promise 
explained  as  an  unlimited  order  upon  the  treasury  and 
storehouse    of    heaven. 

The  young  soldier,  dying  on  the  field,  sends  by  his 
wounded  comrade  a  letter  to  his  father  at  home,  saying, 
"  This  is  my  friend  ;  give  him  whatever  he  asks  for,  for 
my  sake ; "  and  although  the  requests  of  the  wounded 
man  are  unreasonable ;  although  the  things  that  he  asks 
for  are  injurious  to  him,  the  father  of  the  dead  soldier 
grants  the  petitions  of  the  living  one,  simply  because  of 
the  love  that  he  bears  his  son.  Just  so  men  go  to  the 
Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  with  this  text  as  their 
warrant :  "  He  is  my  friend  ;  he  has  given  me  this  promise ; 
therefore,  because  of  thy  love  for  Him,  honor  the  promise 
and  give  me  the  thing  that  I  ask  for."  The  claim  is  made 
solely  on  the  ground  of  the  Father's  love  for  his  Son  Jesus 
Christ. 

Another  conception  of  the  promise  refers  it  to  an 
infinite  fund  of  merit  which  Christ  has  accumulated  by 
his  death,  and  upon  which  this  promise  authorizes  all 
his  disciples  to  draw.  Christ,  by  his  obedience  and  his 
sufferings,  has  i)ut  the  Father  under  infinite  obligations 
to  him ;  those,  therefore,  who  come  to  the  Father  in  the 
name  of  the  Son,  have  a  claim  on  him  which  he  is  bound 
to  recognize.  The  transaction,  as  thus  conceived,  is  partly 
legal  and  partly  commercial.  The  Father  gives  good 
things  to  Christ's  friends  when  they  ask  him,  in  view  of  a 


PKAYINO    IN    CHRIST'S    NAME.  203 

claim  which  Christ  has  upon  him;  or  the  Father  gives 
good  things  to  Christ's  friends  when  they  ask  him,  out 
of  the  proceeds  of  a  capitalized  stock  of  merit  which 
Christ  has  accumulated.  To  ask  in  Christ's  name  is 
therefore  substantially  the  same  thing  as  to  present  an 
order  at  a  store  signed  by  one  of  the  joint  proprietors, 
or  a  check  upon  a  bank  certified  by  the  cashier.  The 
name,  as  we  say,  is  good  for  the  amount.  It  matters 
not  to  us  whether  the  persons  to  whom  the  check  or  the 
order  is  presented  are  friendly  or  unfriendly  to  us ;  it 
matters  not  to  them  whether  the  thing  that  we  receive 
is  good  for  us  or  not;  there  need  be  no  acquaintance 
beyond  simple  identification,  nor  affection,  nor  confidence, 
nor  even  good  will  between  us  and  them ;  what  they  impart 
to  us  is  not  of  grace  to  us  but  of  debt  to  the  one  whose 
name  we   present "  to   them. 

This  view  of  the  intercession  of  Christ  needs  only 
to  be  distinctly  stated  in  order  that  its  crudity  may  be 
perceived.  To  suppose  that  God  answers  our  prayers,  not 
because  he  loves  us  or  desires  our  welfare,  but  because 
of  his  love  to  Christ;  or  to  suppose  that  he  supplies  our 
wants,  not  out  of  his  own  abounding  mercy,,  but  out  of 
the  stores  of  grace  which  Christ  has  accumulated  by  his 
atonement,  is  to  hold  a  most  inadequate  view  of  the  whole 
subject  of  prayer  and  of  the  relation  of  God  to  men.  It 
may  be  difficult .  for  us  to  explain  the  exact  nature  of 
Christ's  mediation,  but  we  can  surely  say  this  about  it, 
negatively,  that  it  does  not  teach  and  cannot  mean  that 
there  is  any  difference  between  God's  feeling  toward  us 
and  Christ's  feeling;  if  we  believe  that  Christ  and  the 
Father  are  one,  we  cannot  believe  that.     Christ  is  a  media- 


20 Jf  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

tor  between  God  and  man  in  the  sense  that  he  is  a  revea'ler 
of  God  to  man  ;  not  in  the  sense  that  he  is  a  negotiator 
or  referee  between  two  parties,  both  of  whom  have  con- 
fidence in  him  and  affection  for  him,  but  neither  of  whom 
has  any  affection  for  or  confidence  in  the  other.  The  idea 
that  our  prayers  for  blessings  go  no  further  than  Christ 
by  whom  the  requests  must  be  endorsed  before  they  will 
be  attended  to,  and  whose  endorsement  is  all  that  entitles 
them  to  attention,  and  that  the  gifts  of  God  on  their  way 
to  men  come  no  nearer  to  us  than  Christ,  by  whom  they  are 
distributed  among  men,  is  a  view  that  degrades  God,  that 
dishonors  Christ,  and  that  contradicts  the  doctrine  of  the 
divine  unity. 

What  then  is  meant  by  asking  in  Christ's  name  for 
gifts   from    God? 

The  name,  in  the  New  Testament,  generally  stands 
for  the  person.  It  is  not  a  mere  sign  or  appellation,  it  is 
the  essential  character  or  personality.  Thus  when  Peter 
says  of  the  lame  man  who  was  healed  at  the  temple  gate, 
"  His  name  [Christ's  name],  through  faith  in  his  name, 
hath  made  this  man  strong,"  we  know  that  he  means  not 
merely  that  the  syllables  which  spell  the  words  Jesus  Christ, 
used  as  a  charm  or  incantation,  have  wrought  this  cure  ; 
but  that  the  divine  power  there  present  and  acting  has 
done  it.  80  always  when  miracles  are  said  to  have  been 
wrought  by  the  name  of  Christ,  it  is  the  personality  of 
Christ  and  the  power  of  Christ  that  are  referred  to. 
Believing  in  the  name  of  Christ  is  believing  not  merely 
in  a  word  but  in  the  person  of  Christ  himself,  with  a 
glance,  no  doubt,  at  the  character  or  reputation  which 
he  has  gained,  of   one   worthy  to  be   trusted. 


PRAVrNG    IX    CHhTST'S    NAME.  20!) 

To  ask  for  anything  in  the  name  of  Christ  is  to  ask, 
then,  in  the  person  or  character  of  Christ ;  to  put  ourselves 
in  his  place  as  nearly  as  we  can,  and  to  ask  for  the  things 
that  he  would  ask  for  and  in  the  spirit  with  which  he 
would  present  his  requests.  "  When  we  desire  another 
to  ask  anything  from  a  superior  in  our  name,"  says  one, 
"  we  mean  to  ask  as  if  we  asked.  It  must  be  something 
then  which  we  should  ask  for  i)ersonally.  Therefore  Christ, 
desiring  us  to  ask  in  his  name,  limits  us  to  ask  those 
things   which    we   presume    he   would    ask    for    us." 

"Name,"  says  Olshausen,  "used  in  application  to  God 
and  to  Christ  as  the  manifestation  of  God,  always  denotes 
the  divine  entity  itself  in  the  whole  compass  of  its  prop- 
erties. Accordingly  prayer  in  the  name  of  Christ  is  such 
as  is  offered  in  the  nature,  nund  and  spirit  of  Christ." 
So  Robinson,  also :  "  The  name  of  God,  or  of  Christ, 
is  used  as  a  periphrase  for  God  himself,  or  Christ  himself, 
in    all    their    being,   attributes,   relations,   manifestations." 

To  i^ray  in  the  name  of  Christ  is,  then,  to  have  the 
mind  of  Christ  when  we  pray ;  to  be  in  the  spirit  of  Christ ; 
to  think  the  same  thoughts  that  Christ  is  thinking;  to 
be  cherishing  the  same  desires  that  he  is  cherishing ;  to 
have  the  same  purposes  that  he  is  following ;  and  when 
this  is  true  of  us,  then  whatever  we  ask  for  we  shall  surely 
receive. 

But  is  it  possible,  you  are  asking,  for  any  of  us  thus 
to  be  completely  identified  in  thought  and  feeling  and 
purpose  with  Christ?  Perhaps  not;  but  just  in  proportion 
as  his  mind  is  in  us,  and  our  lives  reproduce  his  life,  will 
our  prayers  be  effectual.  Just  in  proportion  as  we  are  one 
with  him  in  thought  and  life  are  we  able  to  pray  in  his 


206  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

name ;    and  anything  that  we  thus  ask  will  surely  be  done 
for   us. 

The  same  truth  is  put  in  another  form  by  our  Lord 
when  he  says  :  "  If  ye  abide  in  me,  and  my  words  [that  is, 
my  laws  or  principles]  abide  in  you,  ye  shall  ask  what 
ye  will  and  it  shall  be  done  unto  you.  It  is  the  inter- 
blending  of  the  Master's  life  with  that  of  the  disciple, 
the  perfect  unity  of  mind  and  heart,  that  is  the  condition 
of  successful  prayer.  So  again  in  the  same  chapter  :  "  Ye 
have  not  chosen  me,  but  I  have  chosen  you,  and  ordained 
you  that  ye  should  go  and  bring  forth  fruit  and  that  your 
fruit  should  remain ;  that  whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  of  the 
Father  in  my  name,  he  may  give  it  you."  It  is  only  when 
the  life  of  the  Master  quickens  and  invigorates  the  disciple, 
just  as  the  life  of  the  vine  does  that  of  the  branches,  that 
the  disciple  brings  forth  fruit  that  remains ;  and  it  is  onl}^ 
when  he  is  in  this  condition,  mastered  by  the  spirit  of 
Christ,  inspired  by  his  truth,  governed  by  his  will,  that 
he  can  truly  pray  in  Christ's  name,  and  find  a  certain 
answer   to   his   prayers. 

But  some  will  say  that  this  interpretation  of  the 
phrase  greatly  limits  the  promise.  "  If  it  means  no  more 
than  this,"  it  will  be  said,  "  it  does  not  mean  nearly  so 
much   as  we   always    supposed   it   to    mean." 

It  must  be  admitted  that  this  interpretation  does  limit ' 
the  promise  in  certain  directions.  That  is  really  no  ob- 
jection to  the  interpretation.  There  is  such  a  thing  as 
making  a  phrase  of  Scripture  mean  so  much  that  it  means 
nothing  at  all.  In  our  eagerness  to  extend  the  force  and 
application  of  the  words  of  Christ  we  sometimes  overload 


PRAYING     /.V    CHRIST'S    NAME.  207 

them  with  all  sorts  of   extravagances  from   which  reason 
recoils   dragging   faith    along   with   it. 

These  words  of  our  Lord  have  often  been  seized  upon 
by  ignorant  and  wilful  disciples  as  warranting  them  in 
an  attempt  to  coerce  the  bestowment  of  the  divine  bounty. 
If  we  ask  for  anything  in  his  name,  they  say,  he  will  do  it 
for  us.  Asking  in  his  name  is  simply  asserting  his  media- 
tion, and  claiming  for  ovn-selves  the  benefits  of  it.  We 
do  not  claim  this  in  our  own  right ;  we  have  no  rights 
in  the  premises ;  but  we  have  become  by  our  hearty  and 
loyal  choice  the  disciples  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  he  tells 
us  that  if  we  present  any  petition  at  the  throne  of  grace,  in 
his  name,  it  shall  be  granted  us."  Reasoning  in  this  way, 
men  have  brought  to  God  many  strange  requests  for  objects 
unworthy  and  injurious  to  themselves,  and  yet  have  sup- 
posed that  by  the  use  of  this  phrase  they  made  good  their 
demand  upon  Him.  Those  to  whom  worldly  prosperity 
would  be  a  curse,  who  have  no  power  to  use  wealth  wisely, 
and  would  surely  be  corrupted  by  it,  sometimes  ask  for 
it,  and  say  that  they  are  asking  in  Christ's  name,  and 
seem  to  think  that  God  is  not  faithful  to  his  promise 
because   he   does    not   give   it   to   them. 

There  are  a  thousand  forms  of  temporal  good  for 
which  men  are  wont  to  pray ;  and  their  theory  is  that 
if  they  only  desire  these  things,  and  confidently  ask  for 
them,  and  take  care  to  say  that  they  expect  them  only 
through  the  mediation  of  Christ,  they  will  surely  receive 
them.  When  they  fail  in  obtaining  these  things  that  they 
want  by  this  process,  their  faith  is  sorely  tried,  and  they 
begin   to   doubt   the   word   of    God. 

A   little   reflection  will    show  us    how  foolish  it  is  to 


208  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

suppose  that  pur  Lord  ever  meant  to  commit  to  those  who 
are  as  blind  to  their  own  true  interest  as  we  often  are 
the  power  of  summoning  heaven  to  our  undoing.  If  we, 
by  simply  fixing  our  mind  in  a  certain  way,  or  by  using 
a  certain  phrase,  could  secure  for  ourselves  anything  that 
Omnipotence  is  able  to  give  us,  we  should  speedily  destroy 
ourselves.  We  may  be  very  sure  that  God  will  not  inter- 
rupt or  modify  the  order  of  nature  to  give  us  anything  that 
is  not  good  for  us,  no  matter  how  urgently  we  may  ask  it, 
nor  how  passionately  we  may  plead  the  all-prevailing 
Name. 

Sometimes  good  people  have  whims,  not  only  foolish 
but  hurtful  and  hateful  ones,  that  they  wish  to  have 
gratified.  One  good  woman  whom  I  knew  prayed  all  night, 
as  she  said,  that  her  husband  might  be  kept  from  joining  a 
certain  church  —  a  church  in  good  fellowship  with  the  one 
to  which  she  belonged,  but  in  another  denomination.  She 
was  sure,  she  said,  that  her  prayer  would  be  answered, 
for  she  had  prayed  in  Christ's  name.  Thus  she  imagined 
this  promise  to  be  a  weapon  put  into  her  hand  with  which 
she  could  compel  the  Deity  to  gratify  her  small  bigotry,  her 
antipathy  to  another  Christian  sect.  She  used  the  name  of 
Christ  in  her  prayers  no  doubt ;  but  she  was  very  far  from 
having  the  mind  and  temper  of  Christ ;  and  it  was  therefore 
not  in  his  name,  in  any  deep  and  true  sense,  that  she  was 
praying. 

Such  crude  and  sordid  and  selfish  petitioning  this 
interpretation  of  the  promise  does  not  encourage.  Neither 
does  it  encourage  that  kind  of  speculative  or  experimental 
praying  which  was  proposed  a  few  years  ago  by  an  eminent 
scientific  man,  by  which  the  power  of   prayer  was  to  be 


PRAYING     fN    CHRTST'S    NAME.  209 

tested.  The  proposition  was  that  Christians  all  unite  to 
pray  for  the  patients  in  a  certain  ward  of  a  hospital ;  and 
if  the  patients  in  that  ward  recovered  more  rapidly  than 
those  in  other  wards  the  result  would  be  a  demonstration 
of  the  power  of  prayer.  But  Christians  who  pray  in- 
quisitively or  empirically,  just  to  see  whether  there  is  any 
use  in  praying  or  not,  are  not  praying  with  the  mind 
of  Christ,  no  matter  what  phrases  they  may  use ;  and  there 
is  no  promise  of  answer  to  any  such  prayers.  To  ask  a 
good  man  for  a  good  gift,  just  to  see  what  he  would  say, 
would  be  an  insult ;  and  it  is  not  less  offensive  to  approach 
God   in    this  way. 

Neither  does  this  interpretation  encourage  the  expecta- 
tion that  God  will  work  miracles  to  relieve  us  of  work  or  of 
deserved  suffering.  Some  Christians  imagine  that  God  will 
support  them  in  idleness  if  they  orily  pray  in  faith  for  food 
and  raiment  and  shelter.  We  know,  as  well  as  we  can 
know  anything,  that  it  is  God's  will  that  we  should  earn 
our  livelihood  by  labor,  and  husband  our  earnings  with 
prudence  ;  this  is  the  discipline  which  he  has  appointed  for 
man ;  to  suppose  that  he  will  interpose  miraculously  in 
answer  to  our  prayer,  to  discharge  us  from  the  obligation 
that  he  has  laid  upon  all  men,  is  to  show  a  very  poor 
understanding  of  his  laws  and  a  very  small  respect  for 
them.  One  who  thinks  that  he  can  suggest  to  the  Most 
High  a  better  regimen  than  the  regimen  of  industry  which 
he  has  appointed  for  his  children,  or  who  thinks  that  he 
ought  to  be  made  an  exception  to  the  general  rule,  cannot 
be  said  to  show  much  of  the  temper  of  Christ  in  his 
prayers. 

The    same   princii)le    applies   to    suffering.      One   who 


210  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

violates  a  physical  law  the  existence  of  which  he  knows  or 
ought  to  know,  and  then  thinks  to  escape  through  prayer 
from  the  penalty  of  that  law,  really  insults  God  by  his 
prayer.  No  one  can  pray  in  the  name  of  Christ,  in  the 
sense  in  which  the  phrase  is  here  used,  who  is  not  careful 
to  observe  and  obey  every  part  of  the  law  of  God,  that 
which  is  written  in  Nature  as  well  as  that  which  is  written 
in   the    Bible. 

These,  then,  are  some  of  the  limitations  which  we  must 
give  to  this  promise.  When  the  Master  says  to  us,  "  If  ye 
shall  ask  anything  in  my  name  I  will  do  it,"  he  does  not 
mean  that  he  will  give  us  things  that  are  not  good  for  us, 
nor  that  he  will  gratify  all  our  unreasonable  and  selfish 
whims,  nor  that  he  will  satisfy  our  speculative  curiosity, 
nor  that  he  will  work  miracles  to  deliver  us  from  the  need 
of  labor,  nor  that  he  will  set  aside  for  us  the  penalties  of 
violated  natural  law,  simply  because  we  ask  him  to  do  so 
and  append  his  name  to  our  petitions. 

The  very  first  condition  of  asking  in  Christ's  name  is 
an  entire  and  hearty  willingness  to  know  and  to  do  the  will 
of  the  Lord.'  He  who  truly  prays  in  Christ's  name  wants 
nothing  so  much  as  to  be  conformed  in  every  thought  and 
every  desire  to  the  Heavenly  Father's  will.  All  his  prayers, 
in  fact,  can  be  reduced  to  this  one  prayer,  "  Thy  will  be 
done  !  "  Through  all  his  petitioning  this  desire  runs  ;  it  is 
the  tonic  of  every  melody  that  breaks  from  his  lips  when 
he  speaks  to  God  in  the  holy  place  ;  to  this  one  central 
wish  of  his  life  every  phrase  turns  and  every  thought  is 
moulded. 

To  pray  in  the  name  or  character  of  Christ  is  to 
remember  that  we  are  ignorant  and  that  God  is  infinitely 


PRAVrXO     TN    CHRTSrS    NAME.  211 

wise ;  and  that  what  he  chooses  for  us,  though  it  may  seem 
evil  to  us,  is  far  better  than  anything  that  we  could  choose 
for  ourselves ;  that  therefore  it  would  be  the  height  of 
vuiwisdom  for  us  to  dictate  to  him  what  he  shall  do  for  us ; 
that  we  can  only  make  known  to  him  our  desires,  and  then 
leave  ourselves  with  entire  submission  in  his  careful  and 
powerful  hands. 

'"  I  came  not  to  do  my  own  will  but  the  will  of  him  that 
sent  me,"  is  the  uniform  expression  of  Christ's  deepest 
thought ;  when  that  purpose  takes  possession  of  your  life 
and  subdues  to  itself  every  thought  and  every  desire,  then 
your  prayers  in  his  name  can  not  fail  of  being  answered. 
You  do  not  pray  as  he  prayed  until  you  pray  in  this  tone. 

I  am  aware  that  these  limitations  will  seem  to  some 
persons  to  rob  prayer  of  much  of  its  efficacy.  The  notion 
that  prayer  is  a  device  for  making  our  wills  prevail  over 
God's  will, —  for  constraining  God  to  let  us  have  our  way,  is 
a  very  common  notion.  But  it  cannot  too  soon  be  aban- 
doned. The  very  elements  of  prayer  are  humility  and  not 
self-assertion,  submission  and  not  self-will,  trust  and  not 
dictation. 

And  after  we  have  qualified  this  promise  in  all  these 
ways  it  is  still  large  enough  —  so  large  that  we  shall  never 
begin  to  realize  all  the  good  it  offers  us. 

It  does  not  forbid  us  to  ask  for  temporal  mercies,  for 
the  least  of  the  good  things  that  God  provides,  nor  for  the 
greatest  of  them.  You  may  pray  for  health ;  that  is  a 
blessing  that  Christ  gave  to  many  while  he  was  here ;  per- 
adventure  he  will  give  it  now  to  you ;  it  is  one  of  the  things 
that  you  may  fairly  presume  that  he  would  ask  for  you. 
But  it  is  a  gift  that  he  does  not  always  give  to  those  he 


213  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

loves  best ;  and  when  you  pray  for  it  you  must  always  say, 
"  Nevertheless,  not  mj^  will  but  thine  be  done." 

You  may  pray  for  success  in  business  and  for  prosper- 
ity if  you  desire  financial  success  and  temporal  prosperity 
for  spiritual  or  benevolent  rather  than  for  natural  and 
selfish  reasons.  You  would  better  be  careful  just  here, 
however ;  for  this  is  one  of  the  places  at  which  the 
deceitfulness  of  the  human  heart  is  apt  to  assert  itself. 
Many  a  man  has  said  to  himself:  "  0  how  I  wish  I  could 
be  rich !  How  I  should  like  to  have  all  the  money  I 
want  to  do  good  with  !  " — when  after  all  the  benevolent 
thought  was  only  the  mask  of  a  selfish  one.  The  person  to 
whom  he  wanted  to  do  the  most  good  was  himself.  No 
doubt  he  did  imagine  some  gratification  in  using  his  wealth 
charitably,  but  the  deepest  and  strongest  longing  was  for 
the  gratification  of  his  cravings  for  pleasure  or  for  power. 
Men  do,  however,  sometimes  desire  wealth  and  material 
success  for  higher  reasons  —  that  they  may  have  the  means 
of  self-improvement,  and  the  means  of  usefulness ;  we 
know  that  they  desire  it  for  these  purposes,  because  when 
they  get  it  they  use  it  chiefly  for  these  purposes ;  and 
any  one  who  is  entirely  honest  in  cherishing  such  a  desire, 
may  ask  for  wealth  and  material  success,  because  he  can 
fairly  presume  that  Christ  himself  would  ask  for  the  same 
thing  for  him.  But  here,  too,  the  dominating  wish  will  be 
that  God's  will  may  be  done.  You  may  honestly  think 
that  you  could  use  wealth  in  such  a  way  as  to  derive  moral 
and  spiritual  benefit  from  it  for  yourself,  and  to  confer 
.  benefits  upon  others ;  but  the  Omniscient  One  may  know 
that  you  are  mistaken  about  this,  and,  for  your  own  good, 
as  well  as  for  his  glory,  he  may  therefore  withold  what  3'ou 


PRAVfyO    TX    CHKTST'S    NAME.  213 

crave.  And  therefore  it  is  necessary  that  you  should 
always  frame  all  your  petitions  for  such  gifts  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  condition  them  upon  his  wise  and  loving 
choice  for  you.  And  so  of  every  kind  of  earthly  or 
temporal  good.  You  may  ask  for  anything  that  seems  to 
you  to  consist  with  your  own  moral  and  spiritual  well 
being ;  for  the  bestowment  of  any  gift,  for  aid  in  any  under- 
taking, that  seems  to  you  right  or  wise.  But  inasmuch  as 
your  judgment  may  be  at  fault  in  deciding  what  is  right  or 
wise,  the  ruling  petition  of  every  such  prayer  must  always 
be,  "  Thy  will  be  done." 

There  is  one  class  of  petitions,  however,  in  which  you 
do  not  need  to  make  any  of  these  reservations.  When  you 
ask  for  spiritual  gifts,  then  if  3'ou  are  sincere  you  know 
that  you  are  asking  in  Christ's  name.  You  do  not  pre- 
sume, you  know  that  you  are  speaking  his  mind,  when  you 
pray  for  deliverance  from  the  evil,  for  power  to  do  the  right. 
If  he  were  praying  for  you,  you  know  that  this  is  exactly 
what  he  would  pray  for.  He  might  ask  for  any  of  these 
other  things  that  we  have  been  speaking  of;  he  wonld 
surely  ask  for  this.  What  his  purposes  are  concerning  our 
earthly  conditions,  whether  they  shall  be  prosperous  or 
adverse,  he  has  not  thought  best  to  tell  us ;  he  wants  us  to 
trust  him  for  all  these  things ;  but  we  do  know  of  a  surety 
what  his  purposes  are  concerning  our  characters ;  we  know 
that  he  wants  them  to  be  sound  and  pure  and  holy.  "  This 
is  the  will  of  God,  even  your  sanctification."  He  who 
prays,  "  Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  0  God,  and  renew  a 
right  spirit  within  me ;  wash  me  thoroughly  from  mine 
iniquity  and  cleanse  me  from  my  sin,"  knows  that  the 
thing  he  is  asking  for  is  in  accordance  with  Christ's  will, 


21Jt  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

and  knows  that  if  he  is  enough  in  earnest  to  set  his  own 
will  to  working  out  the  salvation  that  he  asks  for  he  will 
not  ask  in  vain. 

And  now  do  you  say  that  I  have  narrowed  this  promise 
by  my  interpretation?  How  much  have  I  made  it  include? 
I  have  made  it  embrace  all  forms  of  spiritual  good  —  every- 
thing that  improves  the  character,  that  benefits  directly 
or  indirectly  the  soul  of  man.  Whatever  this  word 
"anything"  in  the  text  may  not  mean,  it  does  offer^to  us 
and  certify  to  us  all  that  is  involved  in  hungering  and 
thirsting  for  righteousness.  All  that  comes  within  the 
sweep  of  that  beatitude  is  assured  to  us  by  this  word  of 
Christ.  Therefore  I  do  not  confess  that  I  have  stripped  the 
promise  of  its  preciousness.  All  that  is  really  worth 
having  is  included  in  it  now.  It  does  not  assure  us  that 
by  the  use  of  a  certain  phrase  we  can  constrain  God  to  let 
us  have  our  own  way  about  everything,  for  his  way  is  better 
for  us  than  our  own,  and  he  loves  us  too  well  always  to  let 
us  have  our  own  way.  But  it  does  assure  us  that  if  we 
seek  first  the  Kingdom  of  God  and  his  righteousness,  these 
shall  be  ours,  and  that  all  needful  things  shall  be  added. 
Is  not  that  enough  ? 


EXAMPLE   AND    LIEE. 


I    John   V:    II,    12. 

"And  the  witness  is  tJiis,  that  God  gave  unto  us  eternal  life,  and  this 
life  is  in  his  Son.  He  that  hath  the  Son  hath  the  life;  he  that 
hath  not  the  Son  of  God  hath   not  the  life." 

In  revolting  from  the  hard  legal  and  commercial 
statements  of  the  work  of  Christ  which  grew  out  of 
mediaeval  philosophy  and  mediii^val  law,  many  Christians 
have  gone  to  the  opposite  extreme,  and  have  attributed 
to  him  a  part  in  the  salvation  of  men  that  is  almost 
trivial.  This  is  a  common  fact  of  human  experience ; 
overstatements  are  followed  by  understatements ;  when 
it  is  discovered,  that  a  truth  has  been  distorted  or  ex- 
aggerated, it  is  apt  to  be  cast  aside  altogether.  When  men 
found  that  their  ideas  of  justice  would  not  suffer  them 
to  say  that  Christ  Avas  punished  for  our  sins,  or  that  his 
sufferings  were  judicially  inflicted  upon  him  by  the  Father, 
for  the  expiation  of  our  guilt,  then  they  began  to  make 
statements  about  his  work  that  were  utterly  and  painfully 
inadequate.  Those  who  rejected  the  view  of  penal  sub- 
stitution, were  commonly  content  with  saying  that  Christ 
in  his  life  and  death  was   simply  an  example  to  us  —  an 


216  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

example  of  self-sacrifice  ;  and  that  we  are  saved  by  follow- 
ing his  example.  It  is  quite  commonly  supposed  by  many 
persons  that  this  view  is  the  only  alternative  of  the  penal 
or  commercial  view.  And  you  will  often  hear  it  said  of 
one  who  rejects  the  doctrine  of  a  judicial  infliction  of 
sufferings  upon  the  Son  by  the  Father,  that  he  thinks  that 
all  Christ  did  for  us  was  to  furnish  us  a  good  example. 
The  fact  that  there  is  any  middle  term  in  Christology 
between  Expiation  and  Example  is  a  fact  that  many  good 
people  have  failed  to  comprehend.  I  wish  to  set  forth 
at  this  time  a  truth  concerning  the  relation  of  the  work 
of  Christ  to  our  salvation  which  seems  to  me  to  be  deeper 
and   more  vital  than   any  of   these  extreme   statements. 

It  cannot  be  denied  that  the  New  Testament  constantly 
represents  the  death  of  Christ  as  having  the  effect  to 
reconcile  men  to  God.  Between  God  and  men  there  was 
alienation  and  enmity ;  Christ  is  the  mediator  between  God 
and  men  who  has  brought  them  together  and  made  peace 
between  them.  The  work  of  reconciliation  is  represented 
as  being  wrought  by  the  death  of  Christ.  I  do  not  care  to 
philosophize  about  this  ;  I  have  no  theories  about  it  that  I 
care  to  promulgate ;  I  am  content  to  acoey^t  the  fact,  only 
protesting  against  any  theory  which  seems  to  impugn  the 
justice  of  God. 

But  this  work  of  reconciliation,  as  the  Scriptures  rep- 
resent it,  is  only  the  beginning  of  the  work  of  salvation. 
Christ  reconciles  us  first  and  then  saves  us.  "  For  if,"  says 
the  Apostle,  "  when  we  were  enemies,  we  were  reconciled  to 
God  by  the  death  of  his  Son,  much  more,  being  reconciled, 
we  shall  be  saved  by  his  life."  This  may  be  regarded 
as  the  classical  passage  of  Paul's  writings  on  this  subject. 


EXAMPLE    AND    LIFE. 


217 


No  Other  single  text  of  his  tells  us  so  fully  and  so  explicitly 
what  the  Redeemer  does  for  us.  He  reconciles  us  by  his 
death,  he  saves  us  by  his  life.  Of  the  work  of  reconcilia- 
tion I  will  not  speak  to-day;  I  am  concerned  with  the 
larger  work  of  salvation  which  follows  reconciliation. 
How  is  it  that  Christ  saves  us  by  his  life?  "By  setting 
before  us  a  perfect  example,"  some  men  say.  I  wish 
to  show  that  this  answer  is  altogether  superficial  and 
inadequate. 

It  will  be  admitted,  of  course,  that  Christ  has  given  us 
a  perfect  example.  He  has  not  only  told  us  what  to  do,  he 
has  shown  us  how  to  live.  He  was  himself,  by  the  method 
which  he  followed,  the  great  Object  Teacher,  and  his  life 
was  the  great  Object  Lesson.  He  not  only  taught  us  the 
truth,  and  showed  us  the  way,  but  he  ivas  the  Truth  and 
the  Way.  The  example  that  he  gave  us  is  not,  indeed, 
sufficient  to  fit  in  detail  all  the  experiences  of  our  lives. 
A  thousand  things  which  we  must  do  he  never  did;  the 
outward  circumstances  of  our  lives  are  very  different  from 
those  of  his  life ;  and  any  attempt  slavishly  to  follow  his 
example  in  matters  of  detail  — to  do  the  identical  things 
that  he  did,  and  not  to  do  anything  that  he  is  not  reported 
as  doing,  would  be  absurd.  His  conduct  was,  however, 
governed  by  certain  principles,  and  it  is  possible  for  us  to 
detach  those  principles  from  the  specific  acts  in  which  they 
found  expression,' and  to  govern  ourselves  by  them.  When 
we  do  this,  we  rightly  follow  his  example. 

But  while  we  have  in  the  life  of  Christ  an  objective 
representation  of  perfect  conduct  which  serves  a  very 
important  purpose  in  our  moral  education,  and  while  it  is 
useful  and  even  necessary  for  us  to  study  the  model  con- 


218  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

tinually,  and  to  fashion  our  lives  after  it,  yet  this  example 
would  prove  powerless  for  the  renewal  and  reformation 
of  our  characters. 

Example  is  more  powerful  than  precept ;  its  influence 
goes  deeper  and  takes  hold  of  us  with  a  stronger  grasp ; 
but  after  all  it  is  of  the  same  nature  as  precept.  You  can 
give  a  child  in  words  some  idea  of  the  rules  of  polite 
behavior ;  you  can  give  him  an  example  of  politeness 
which  will  be  much  more  instructive  and  effective  in  form- 
ing his  manners  than  any  verbal  rules  that  you  could  give 
him ;  but  the  rules  and  the  example  would  both  operate  in 
the  same  way ;  they  would  reach  and  influence  him  through 
his  intellect  and  his  will.  He  would  learn  your  rules,  and 
would  try  to  obey  them ;  he  would  observe  your  actions, 
and  would  try  to  copy  them.  In  both  cases  the  effect 
produced  would  be  the  result  of  a  voluntary  effort.  It 
is  easier  for  him  to  imitate  your  actions  than  it  is  to 
remember  and  obey  your  rules ;  the  object  teaching  of 
etiquette  is  more  vivid  and  effective  than  abstract  teaching ; 
but  both  address  the  will  through  the  intelligence. 

Now  while  the  imitation  of  an  action  is  easier  and 
pleasanter  than  the  obedience  of  a  precept,  there  is  still 
a  great  lack  of  beauty  and  of  vigor  in  the  conduct  that  is 
simply  the  result  of  imitation.  We  do  not,  ordinarily, 
admire  imitations.  Articles  of  food  or  of  dress  or  of 
ornament  that  are  mere  imitations  we  do  not  affect.  And 
this  is  not  only  because  the  imitation  is  less  valuable, 
intrinsically,  than  the  object  imitated,  but  also  because  the 
beauty  of  the  original  fails  to  appear  in  the  imitation. 
The  best  copy  you  can  get  of  a  great  painting  will  be 
far  behind  the  original.      No  matter  how  skilful  the  hand 


EXAMPLE    AND     LIFE.  219 

may  be  that  executes  the  copy,  it  will  fail  to  catch  and 
reproduce  the  spirit  and  vigor  of  the  first  painting.  The 
artist  who  is  copying  may  be  equal  in  manual  skill  to  the 
one  whose  work  he  is  trying  to  copy ;  but  when  he  sits 
down  and  simply  tries  to  reproduce  the  other  man's  lines 
and  tints,  to  express  the  other  man's  thoughts,  there  is  a 
certain  stiffness  and  hardness  about  his  work  which  you 
would  not  see  in  it  if  it  were  original  work  —  if  he  were 
expressing  his  own  thoughts  in  his  own  way. 

Here  is  a  penman  of  great  skill ;  his  hand  is  finely 
trained,  and  his  chirography,  when  he  writes  with  a  free 
hand,  is  beautiful ;  but  give  him  a  specimen  of  another 
man's  writing,  and  tell  him  to  imitate  it  as  closely  as  he 
can,  and,  though  the  other  man's  writing  may  be  much 
more  beautiful  than  his,  yet  when  he  tries  to  imitate  it,  his 
work  will  probably  be  cramped  and  unsymmetrical  —  much 
less  fair  to  see  than  his  hand-writing. 

In  every  department  of  art  this  rule  will  be  found  to 
hold,  that  original  work  is  much  more  spirited  and 
vigorous  and  characteristic  than  mere  imitation ;  that  it 
is  when  a  man  is  thinking  his  own  thought  and  express- 
ing himself  in  his  own  way  that  he  is  doing  the  best 
work. 

And  what  i.s  true  of  art  is  not  less  true  of  conduct. 
Behavior  that  is  the  result  of  simple  imitation  is  never 
admirable,  and  is- often  ridiculous.  Conduct  has  its  artistic 
side  as  well  as  its  moral  side,  and  the  rule  that  applies  in 
other  departments  of  art  applies  to  the  forms  of  behavior. 
You  sometimes  see  a  person  whose  manners  are  evidently 
the  result  of  study  and  imitation  ;  he  does  nothing  sponta- 
neously ;    every  movement  is  copied  from   some  model  of 


220  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

deportment,  whose  manners  he  has  admired.  Such 
manners    are   commonly   ludicrous   in    the   extreme. 

You  sometimes  see  speakers  whose  style  of  oratory^is 
largely  the  product  of  imitation.  They  have  chosen^  either 
some  teacher  of  elocution,  or  some  favorite  popular  orator 
as  their  model,  and  they  give  you  a  copy,  as  nearly  exact  as 
they  can  produce,  of  his  gestures  ^and  his  tones  and  his 
cadences.  Such  an  imitation  is  never  pleasing,  and  is  often 
disgusting ;  it  is  always  lacking  in  force  and  effectiveness  ; 
the  mere  imitator  has  little  power  to  convince  or  persuade. 

What  is  true  of  the  external  graces  of  the  person  is 
still  more  true  of  the  deeper  traits  of  character  and  the 
weightier  matters  of  conduct.  Virtue  that  is  a  simple 
imitation  is  lacking  in  beauty  and  in  power.  It  is  infinitely 
better,  of  course,  that  we  should  imitate  good  conduct  than 
that  we  should  imitate  evil  conduct ;  the  mere  copyist  in 
morals  is  a  far  less  disgusting  person  than  the  copyist 
of  vice  and  vulgarity ;  but  good  conduct  in  one  man  that  is 
merely  a  servile  imitation  of  good  conduct  in  another  man 
Jacks  in  the  repetition  all  the  spirit  and  grace  and  excellent 
flavor  that  it  has  in  the  original.  There  is  a  perceptible 
hardness  and  stiffness  and  unreality  about  it;  it  is  an 
artificial   flavor   after   all. 

So,  then,  if  a  perfect  example  were  put  before  us,  and 
we  should  set  ourselves  resolutely  and  carefully  to  the 
copying  of  that  example,  we  should  be  sure  to  fail;  our 
lives,  though  they  might  seem  outwardly  very  like  the  life 
we  were  trying  to  imitate,  would  resemble  it  only  as  the 
artificial  flower  resembles  the  real  one.  "That  peculiar 
character,"  says  Dr.  Mozley,  "  which  we  admire  in  another, 
would  become  quite  a  different  one  in  ourselves  could  we 


EXAMPLE    AND    LIFE.  S21 

achieve  the  most  successful  imitation.  The  copy  would 
never  have  the  spirit  of  the  original,  because  it  would  want 
the  natural  root  upon  which  the  original  grew.  We  ought 
to  grow  out  of  our  own  roots ;  our  own  inherent  propriety 
of  constitution  is  the  best  nucleus  for  our  own  formation." 

When  we  give  ourselves  simph^  to  the  servile  copying 
of  another  character,  not  only  do  we  fail  to  reproduce  that 
character,  we  fail  to  produce  the  best  character  that  we  are 
capable  of.  The  best  character  that  we  can  produce,  as  Dr. 
Mozley  says,  is  that  which  grows  out  of  our  own  roots.  It 
is  when  we  are  our  own  genuine  selves,  not  when  we  are 
imitating  somebody  else,  that  we  are  reaching  the  mark 
of  the  prize  of  our  high  calling.  The  rose  may  be  more 
beautiful  than  the  violet,  but  the  violet  attains  its  own 
perfection  not  by  trying  to  be  a  rose,  but  by  developing  its 
own  life  to  the  highest  possible  degree,  —  by  growing  out  of 
its  own  roots  and  fulfilling  the  laws  of  its  own  being. 

When  God  gave  you  being  he  gave  you  character  and 
personality  of  your  own.  What  he  meant  you  to  be  is 
indicated  in  the  very  constitution  of  your  soul.  And 
although  by  disobedience  and  alienation  from  him  you 
may  have  badly  injured  your  own  character,  though  the 
divine  perfection  in  which  it  ought  to  shine  may  but  diml}^ 
appear  in  it,  yet  the  ground  plan,  so  to  speak,  is  there,  and 
that  is  the  plan  on  which  your  character  is  to  be  built ;  the 
thing  for  you  to  do  is  simply  to  become  what  God  meant 
you  to  be,  and  this  you  cannot  do  by  trying  to  imitate  the 
character  and  conduct  of  some  one  else.  The  prodigal 
when  he  was  in  a  far  country  "  came  to  himself."  That  is 
what  you  need  to  do.  You  want  to  be  brought  back  to 
your  true  and  real  self,  not  to  become  like  unto  somebody 


222  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

else.  An  effort  to  imitate  any  other  character  or  life, 
then  —  even  that  of  the  Highest  —  would  not  produce  in 
you  the  result  that  you  were  made  and  meant  to  bring 
forth. 

One  of  the  results  which  is  sure  to  accompany  the 
effort  to  live  by  example,  is  the  aggravation  of  self-con- 
sciousness. The  steady  and  laborious  attempt  to  imitate 
the  conduct  of  another  necessarily  keeps  our  attention  fixed 
all  the  while  upon  ourselves,  our  own  appearances  and 
performances.  The  comparison  of  our  actions  with  those 
of  the  person  whose  example  we  are  following  must  be 
constantly  made ;  we  must  all  the  while  be  thinking  of 
how  we  are  behaving.  Now  it  is  certain  that  the  virtue 
which  is  all  the  while  conscious  of  itself  is  not  the  highest 
kind  of  virtue.  The  elements  of  spontaneity,  of  freedom, 
of  self- forgetful ness  are  among  the  cardinal  elements  of  the 
highest  conduct.  A  life  that  is  the  result  merely  or  mainly 
of  imitation  cannot  possess  these  elements  in  any^  high 
degree. 

I  think  I  have  shown  that  the  theory  of  Christ's  work 
which  represents  him  simply  as  living  and  dying  to  set 
before  us  a  perfect  example  of  purity  and  truth  and  self- 
denying  love  is  a  ver}^  inadequate  theory.  At  any  rate  it  is 
plain  that  merely  to  place  before  men  a  perfect  example  is 
not  to  do  them  the  greatest  good  ;  that  they  need  to  have 
something  more  than  this  done  for  them.  For  even  when 
they  set  themselves  conscientiously  to  imitate  this  example, 
the  result  in  them  is  a  formal  and  artificial  virtue,  a  type  of 
character  far  less  beautiful  than  they  are  capable  of,  one  of 
the  traits  of  which  is  likely  to  be  a  morbid  and  disagreeable 
self-consciousness.      The    life    whose   formative    method   is 


EXAMPLE    AND    LIFE.  ^^^ 


imitation  is  not  the  best  type  of  life,  even  though  the  mode 
imitated  be  the  very  highest  modeh  If,  then,  Jesus  Christ 
had  come  to  earth  and  had  lived  as  he  lived  and  died  as  he 
died  and  had  merelv  said  to  men  :  "  Imitate  me  ;  take  my 
life  for  your  example,  and  follow  it  as  closely  as  you  can,  - 
if  that  had  been  all  that  he  had  done,  his  work  on  behalf 
of  humanitv  would  have  been  altogether  defective  m  char- 
acter and  m  result.  And  those  who  find  in  him  only  an 
example  to  imitate  receive  but  little  of  the  benefit  ihat  he 

came  to  bring.  . 

What  men  most  need  is  the  healing,  the  quickening, 
the  replenishing  of  their  spiritual  life.     It  is  not  a  model  to 
live  by  it  is  ''new  life  and  fuller  that  we  want."     And  this 
is  the  want  that  Christ  supplies.     "  I  am  come,"  he  says 
"that  thev  might  have  life  and  that  they  might  have  it 
more   abundantly."      And  the   beloved  disciple  bears   the 
same  testimony,  in  the  words  of  the  text:     "This  is  the 
record,  that  God  hath  given  to  us  eternal  life  and  this  hfe  is 
in  his   Son.     He  that  hath  the   Son  hath  life  and  he  that 
hath  not  the  Son  of  God  hath  not  life."     Still  more  closely 
and  strongly  our  Lord  himself  declares  the  purpose  of  his 
comin-  in  his  last  praver  for  his  disciples  :     "Father,  the 
hour   is'   come;    glorify  thy   Son    that  thy    Son    also   may 
glorify  thee:    as  thou  hast  given  him  power  overall  hesh 
that  he  should  give  eternal  life  to  as  many  as  thou  hast 
given  him.     And  this  is  life  eternal,  that  they  might  know 
thee  the  only  true  God  and  Jesus  Christ  whom  thou  hast 
sent"      I   know    not   where   we   should    look   for   a   more 
explicit  or  more  authoritative  declaration  of  the  object  fpr 
which  our  Savior  came  to  earth  than  we  find  in  these  words 
that  I  have   read.     And  it  is  phain  that  the  work  which  he 


22jlf  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

has  undertaken  to  do  is  something  more  than  to  set  us  a 
good  example,  something  much  more  radical  and  vital ; 
something  that  takes  hold  of  us  in  a  different  way  and 
works  in  us  by  a  different  set  of  forces. 

The  work  that  he  does  is  the  impartation  to  us  of  life. 
He  that  hath  the  Son  hath  life.  The  life  that  he  imparts  to 
us  is  spiritual  life.  And  spiritual  life  consists  in  the  love  of 
the  right  and  the  true  and  the  good,  and  in  power  to  do  the 
right,  to  apprehend  the  truth,  to  find  and  follow  the  good. 
This  love  of  righteousness  and  moral  goodness  as  the  best 
possessions,  this  power  to  lay  hold  upon  them  and  make 
them  our  own  and  realize  them  in  thought  and  word  and 
deed  —  this  is  spiritual  life.  In  the  first  chapter  of  this 
Gospel  the  same  truth  is  set  before  us  under  a  different 
phrase :  "  But  as  many  as  received  him,  to  them  gave  he 
power  to  become  the  sons  of  God."  The  sons  of  God  are 
they  whose  life  is  in  the  highest  sense  spiritual.  It  is  in 
imparting  to  them  this  spiritual  life,  this  love  of  righteous- 
ness and  this  power  to  do  right,  that  Christ  enables  us  to 
become  the  sons  of  God. 

How  is  it  that  he  imparts  to  men  this  life  ?  Ah,  I  do 
not  know  that.  How  does  the  sun  impart  life  to  the  seeds 
and  roots  and  bulbs  that  during  all  this  long  winter  have 
been  waiting  for  hini  under  ground  ?  I  do  not  know  how 
he  does  it,  but  I  know  that  he  does  it.  Some  of  them  have 
heard  his  voice  already  and  have  come  forth  from  their 
graves  ;  many  others  will  hear  it  soon,  and,  drest  in  new 
garments  bright  and  clean,  these  long  imprisoned  tribes  ol' 
earth  will  spring  rejoicing  into  life  and  beauty.  The  subtle 
might  of  his  regenerating  rays  is  seeking  them  out 
already;  they  begin  to  feel  in  every  fibre  the  influence  of 


EXAMPLE    AND    LIFE.  225 

his  power ;  life  is  quickened  within  them  by  his  genial 
influence. 

And  as  many  as  receive  Jesus  Christ,  as  many  as  will 
accept  Him  as  the  Lord  of  their  life,  and  will  let  him  in- 
struct them  and  lead  them  and  inspire  them,  sweetly  yield- 
ing to  the  influences  of  his  grace,  will  find  that  he  is  doing 
for  them  something  Hke  what  the  sun  does  for  the  germs 
beneath  the  soil ;  that  he  is  imparting  spiritual  life  to 
them  ;  that  he  is  kindling  in  their  souls  the  love  of  all 
things  right  and  true  and  good,  and  increasing  in  them  the 
power  to  realize  such  things  in  their  lives.  This  is  what  he 
does  for  all  who  will  receive  him.  The  flower  bulbs  under 
the  ground  have  no  choice  about  receiving  the  awakening 
influences  of  the  April  sun.  But  that  is  where  flowers  and 
men  are  unlike.  Men  have  the  power  to  shut  their  hearts 
and  lives  against  the  regenerating  light  of  the  sun  of  right- 
eousness. But  as  many  as  will  welcome  this  light  and 
walk  in  it  will  find  it  quickening  all  the  sentiments  and 
forces  of  virtue  in  them ;  cleansing  away  their  foulness, 
overcoming  their  selfishness,  filling  them  with  a  love  of  all 
things  that  are  true  and  honest  and  of  good  report. 

He  that  hath  the  Son  hath  life.  The  divine  life  is 
imparted  to  him,  he  becomes  by  his  union  with  Christ  a 
partaker  of  the  divine  nature,  and  thus  the  very  sources  of 
thought  and  desire  and  imagination  and  choice  in  him  are 
purified.  The  influence  of  this  life-giving  grace  goes  down 
to  the  very  roots  of  your  being ;  it  is  a  radical  change  ;  it  is 
what  men  call  regeneration.  Yet  it  is  still,  in  Dr.  Mozley's 
phrase,  out  of  your  own  roots  that  you  are  growing ;  your 
personality  is  not  suppressed,  it  is  strengthened,  it  is  invig- 
orated ;   you   are  not  trying  to  be  somebody  else ;  you  are 


THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

more  really  yourself  than  you  ever  were  before  ;  from  the 
aberrations  of  your  vanity  and  folly  you  have  come  to 
yourself  again. 

Such  is  the  work  that  Christ  does  for  every  one  that 
receives  him.  And  it  is  a  great  deal  more  than  furnishing 
us  an  example.  It  meets  our  deepest  want,  which  is  not 
so  much  a  model  as  a  regenerating  power.  The  tulij)  bulb 
does  not  need  a  fullgrown  tulip  to  look  at,  that  it  may 
know  how  to  blossom  ;  it  needs  to  feel  at  its  own  heart  the 
warmth  of  the  life-giving  sun.  Not  Christ  before  you,  as 
an  example,  but  Christ  in  you,  communicating  to  you  the 
vitalizing  energy  of  his  own  eternal  life,  is  the  power  of 
God  unto  salvation.  If  you  will  take  Him  for  your  Lord 
and  Savior,  will  commune  with  him  daily  in  secret  places, 
will  try  as  earnestly  as  Paul  did  to  know  him,  to  become 
fully  acquainted  with  him,  to  identify  yourself  with  him  in 
feeling  and  interest,  I  know  that  just  this  result  will  follow; 
you  may  hardly  be  conscious  of  it,  but  this  change  will 
surely  be  wrought  in  you ;  you  will  pass  from  death  unto 
life, —  from  animalism  and  deceitfulness  and  selfishness  to 
purity  and  truth  and  love.  That  will  be  salvation,  and 
nothing  that  stops  short  of  that  is  salvation. 

But  the  text  says  that  this  life  is  eternal  life.  The 
witness  is  that  God  has  given  to  us  eternal  life  and  the  life 
is  in  his  Son.  Yea,  verily  !  Such  life  as  this  is  eternal  life. 
The  life  of  virtue  is  not  subject  to  decay.  The  soul  whose 
ruling  loves  and  motives  are  such  as  I  have  been  talking 
about  has  in  itself  the  instinct  and  the  assurance  of  immor- 
tality. Over  such  death  has  no  power.  Spiritual  life  is 
eternal  life.  The  life  whose  organizing  principles  are  right- 
eousness and  truth  and  love,  is  a  life  that  takes  hold  of  the 


EXAMPLE    AND    LIFE.  227 

seons  to  come  with  a  sure  grasp.  God  has  so  made  the 
universe  that  these  principles  are  indestructible ;  in  the 
nature  of  things  virtue  is  immortal ;  the  life  that  is  incor- 
porate with  it  has  the  promise  of  an  everlasting  day. 

"  But  he  that  hath  not  the  Son  of  God  hath  not  life."  No 
doubt  there  are  many  who  have  not  known  the  Son  of  God 
under  his  historic  name  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  yet  have  this 
life  in  them  of  which  we  have  been  speaking.  "  In  every 
nation,"  says  Peter,  "  he  that  feareth  God  and  worketh 
righteousness  is  accepted  of  him."  Some  men  have  the 
Son,  who  know  him  not  by  his  name.  Those  principles 
and  attributes  of  God  which  were  revealed  to  us  in  Jesus 
Christ  they  have  learned  to  love  and  obey.  In  receiving 
thus  the  revelation  that  they  have  had  of  the  divine  nature, 
and  in  walking  in  the  light  of  it  they  have  entered  into  life. 
And  it  may  be  that  to  some  even  in  Christian  lands  Jesus 
Christ  has  been  so  misrepresented  —  that  the  truth  about 
him  has  been  so  travestied  and  caricatured  —  that  they 
have  been  unable  to  receive  him,  under  the  name  that  he 
bears,  and  yet  have  received  the  essential  truth  that  he 
came  to  teach  and  the  real  spiritual  life  that  he  came  to 
communicate. 

But  I  fear  that  there  are  some  who  have  not  the  Son  in 
any  true  meaning  of  that  phrase.  To  them  he  has  not  been 
misrepresented,  but  faithfully  and  lovingly  presented  :  they 
have  his  gospel  in  their  hands,  and  they  are  not  misled  by 
any  harsh  travesty  of  it.  Yet  they  do  not  want  Jesus 
Christ  to  be  their  friend  and  Savior.  It  is  just  because  the 
life  that  he  inspires  is  pure  and  upright  and  unselfish  tbat 
they  do  not  wish  to  have  anything  to  do  with  Him.  They 
want  to  do  some  things  that  are  not  pure  and  upright  and 


2£8  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

unselfish.  And  when  any  one  who  fairly  knows  Jesus 
Christ  —  who  he  is  and  what  he  is  —  who  knows  him  to  be 
perfectly  wise  and  unspeakably  good  —  yet  turns  away  from 
him  because  he  is  good,  and  because  he  does  not  want  such 
a  good  Master  as  he  is,  then  we  must  say  of  such  an  one 
not  only  that  he  has  not  life,  but  that  so  long  as  he  contin- 
ues to  turn  away  from  Jesus  Christ  he  will  not  have  life. 
No  true  spiriual  life  can  be  the  portion  of  one  who  is  in  this 
sad  condition ;  and  since  spiritual  life  and  eternal  life  are 
one,  he  can  not  know  what  it  is  to  have  eternal  life.  How 
much  it  means  to  be  without  eternal  life  I  cannot  tell,  and 
God  forbid  that  any  of  you  should  ever  know ! 


THE    NECESSITY    OF   CHRIST'S    RESURRECTION. 


Acts    ii:    24. 

"  Whom    God    hath   raised    up,    having    loosed   the  pangs    of    death, 
because  it  was  not  possible  that  he  should  be  holden  of  it." 

It  was  not  possible  that  Death  shonld  hold  our  divine 
Lord  and  Savior.  Over  him  the  Conqueror  of  Nations 
had  no  power.  Him  the  iron  bars  of  the  sepulcher  could 
not  confine.  But  what  is  the  reason  of  this  glorious 
impossibility?  Why  could  not  Death  prevail  against  our 
Lord? 

Was  it  simply  because  of  his  power?  Is  the  victory 
that  he  gained  when  he  came  forth  from  the  grave  only 
the  prevalence  of  a  stronger  force  over  a  weaker?  Have 
we  here  nothing  more  than  the  repetition  of  that  matching 
of  might  against  might  which  had  furnished  to  men  of 
all  ages  and  all  grades  of  culture  so  large  a  part  of  their 
diversion?  The  love  of  poVer,  the  delight  in  wielding 
it  and  in  witnessing  its  exercise,  the  joy  of  battle,  the 
elation  of  victory,  the  excitement  of  the  spectator  who 
hangs  over  the  arena,  as  well  as  of  the  gladiator  wlio 
fights  upon  its  crimson  sands  —  how  much  of  human 
energy  finds  vent  in  these  great  passions  !     Is  this  spectacle 


230  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

of  the  triumphing  of  Christ  over  Death  only  another 
exhibition   of    strength? 

Doubtless  we  must  see  in  the  resurrection  a  proof  of 
superhuman  energy.  "  No  man  taketh  my  life  from  me ;" 
said  our  Lord;  "I  have  power  to  lay  it  down,  and  I  have 
power  to  take  it  again."  What  he  meant  by  the  power 
to  lay  down  his  life  probably  none  of  his  disciples  fully 
knew ;  what  he  meant  by  the  power  to  take  it  again  they 
did  dimly  understand,  when  they  saw  his  empty  tomb 
on  the  Easter  morning,  and  heard  him  on  the  Easter 
evening  saying  unto  them,  "  Peace  be  unto  you  ! "  Here 
is  the  sign'^of  a  Strength  superior  to  Nature ;  of  an  Energy 
that  is  not  confined  by  the  uniformities  of  physical  law  ; 
of  a  Force  that  is  stronger  than  the  strongest  of  the  forces 
with  which  our  science  deals ;  of  a  Power  that  is  mightier 
than  Death  ! 

But  is  this  all?  Is  this  the  most  significant  of  the 
lessons  that  the  resurrection  teaches  us?  Is  it  chiefly 
an  exhibition  of  power?  No  :  this  is  the  least  and  not 
the  greatest  of  the  truths  disclosed  to  us  upon  the  Easter 
day.  Men  had  faith  enough  in  physical  power  before 
Christ  rose  from  the  dead.  They  were  quick  enough  to  see 
and  to  applaud  any  revelation  of  force.  Worshippers  of 
power  most  of  them  were.  The  triumphs  of  men,  of 
armies,  of  nations  over  one  another,  awakened  all  their 
enthusiasm  ;  they  were  ready  to  respond  to  every  demon- 
stration of  marvel-working  might.  Men  believed  quite 
enough  in  the  power  of  God  ;  as  a  revelation  of  the  fact 
that  there  is  a  Will  behind  nature  superior  to  nature,  the 
resurrection  was  not  needed. 

What,  then,  was  this  impossibility?      Was  it  logical. 


THE    NECESSITY    OF    CHRIST'S    RESURRECTION.  231 

if  it  was  not  physical?  Does  the  Apostle  mean  that  Christ 
could  not  have  been  left  in  the  grave,  because,  as  one  says, 
"  the  divine  plan  and  purpose  made  his  resurrection  neces- 
sary?" Doubtless  this  is  true.  The  success  of  his  mission 
required  him  to  rise  from  the  grave.  It  was  necessary  as  a 
practical  measure,  for  the  confirmation  of  his  claims,  and 
the  verification  of  his  gospel.  But  is  this  all?  No:  I  do 
not  think  we  have  begun  to  state  the  measure  of  the 
Apostle's  words,  "  it  was  not  possible,"  when  we  have  said 
that  it  was  both  physically  and  logically  impossible  for 
Christ  to  be  holden  of  death.  The  impossibility  was  moral 
more  than  physical  or  logical.  It  was  not  might  nor  power 
nor  policy  but  love  and  right  that  conquered  when  the 
angel  rolled  away  the  stone,  and  the  Prince  of  Life  came 
forth  from  the  tomb.  It  was  not  that  Jesus  was  too  strong 
to  be  overcome  by  death,  nor  that  his  plans  for  the  redemp- 
tion of  the  race  were  too  well  laid  to  suffer  defeat  at  the 
hands  of  this  enemy ;  it  was  simply  that  a  life  as  good  and 
pure  and  loving  as  his  life  was  could  not  be  extinguished 
by  death.  That  it  ought  not  to  be  was  plain  before.  It 
was  now  seen  that  it  could  not  be.  This  is  the  deepest 
meaning  of  the  resurrection. 

The  apostle  expresses  in  this  phrase  one  of  the 
strongest  and  most  persistent  of  the  instinctive  moral 
feelings  of  man.  This  is  the  feeling  that  virtuous  being 
ought  to  continue.  It  is  sometimes  said  that  man  has  an 
instinctive  faith  in  immortality,  and  it  is  doubtless  true 
that  men  do  naturally  look  forward  to  existence  beyond  the 
grave.  They  hope  for  it,  though  there  may  be  no  clear 
evidence  of  it.  But  the  feeling  to  which  I  refer  is  much 
deeper    and    more    dominant    than    this.      The    question 

\ 


332  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

whether  all  human  lives  will  be  continued  beyond  the 
grave  is  very  different  from  the  question  whether  virtuous 
human  lives  will  be  continued.  To  the  first  question 
reason  might  answer :  "  They  may  be  ;  let  us  trust  that 
they  are."  To  the  second  it  replies  with  the  emphasis  of  a 
mighty  conviction,  "  They  ought  to  be  !  " 

I  am  not  speaking  now  of  the  testimony  of  revelation 
concerning  future  existence ;  I  am  speaking  of  the  conclu- 
sions to  which  our  own  instinct  and  judgment  would  lead 
us.  And  I  think  that  if  we  had  to  depend  wholly  on 
these  for  our  light  upon  this  great  question,  while  each  one 
might  hope  for  life  beyond  the  grave  as  his  own  inherit- 
ance, we  should  hesitate  to  affirm  it  confidently  respecting 
all  our  neighbors. 

Here,  for  example,  is  one  whose  life  has  steadily  gravi- 
tated downward ;  who  has  grown  more  sordid,  more  sour, 
more  brutish,  more  malignant  with  every  passing  year. 
There  maybe  good  elements  left  in  the  man  ;  probably  there 
is  somebody  who  loves  him  yet,  and  who  finds  good  in  him ; 
but  to  most  of  those  who  have  dealings  with  him  he  seems 
almost  wholly  bad,  and  ripening  in  badness.  If  he  ever 
does  any  good  it  does  not  appear ;  what  power  he  has  seems 
to  be  used  to  irritate,  to  corrupt,  to  despoil  and  to  destroy 
his  fellow  men.  So  he  lives,  and  so  living  he  goes  down  to 
death.  If  we  had  no  other  guide  than  our  own  reason,  and 
our  own  moral  instincts,  should  we  confidently  affirm  of 
such  a  man  that  there  would  be  life  for  him  beyond  the 
grave?  I  do  not  think  so.  I  think  we  should  be  more 
likely  to  say  of  him,  pityingly  and  mournfully  :  "  If  there 
were  any  prospect  that  his  character  could  be  mended,  if 
there  were  any  assurance  that  regenerating  influences  could 


THE    NECESSITY    OF    CHRIST'S    RESURRECTION.  233 

be  brought  to  bear  upon  his  life  in  some  other  world, 
then  we  would  hope  that  he  might  have  life  beyond  ;  but 
if  his  life  is  to  go  on  in  this  strain,  if  he  is  to  be  a  corrupter 
and  a  spoiler  and  a  malefactor,  there  is  no  reason  why  his 
existence  should  be  prolonged.  If  this  universe  is  built  on 
righteousness,  the  continuance  of  such  lives  is  illogical  and 
inexplicable."      That   i*s  what  the  moral  reason  would  say 

about  it. 

But  here  is  another  of  different  quality.     His  life  has 
been  full  of  faithful  and  loving  service  of  his  kind;  he  has 
been  a  helper,  a  comforter,  a  peace-maker  among  men  ;   his 
benignant   presence    always   brought    sunshine    into  every 
circle  where  he  stood  ;  the  contact  of  his  spirit  made  every 
man  more  manly  and  every  woman  more  womanly.     Stead- 
ily  as   the    years    have    gone   by   his   character   has   been 
ripening,  his  insight  has  grown  clearer,  his  purpose  firmer, 
his  wisdom  serener,  his  beneficence  larger,  and  now  in  the 
midst  of  his  years  he  suddenly  falls,  and  among  men  no 
more  is  seen.     Is  not  our  feeling  about  such  a  man's  depar- 
ture  quite   difi\-rent   from    that  with   which  we    noted  the 
passing  out  of  life  of  the  other?     Do  we  not  say  at  once, 
that  if  this  universe  means  righteousness  such  a  man  ought 
not  to  cease  to  be ;    that  the  discontinuance  of  such  a  life 
would  be  as  illogical  and  inexplicable  as  the  continuance 
of  the  other  would  be?     Whatever  might  be  the  conclusions 
of    our   metaphysics    respecting   the  probability   of   future 
existence  in  the  abstract,  our  moral  sense  most  strenuously 
asserts  that  such  life  as  this  ought  not  to  terminate.     Death 
has  seized   upon  our  friend,  we  say,  but  it  is  not  possible 
that  death  should  hold  him  fast. 

In  cases  of  inauy  that  we  have  known  we  have  felt  that 


^S-'i  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

this  impossibility  was  strong,  almost  invincible;  but  how 
much  stronger  should  it  have  been  in  the  minds  of  those 
who  had  been  the  companions  and  disciples  of  Jesus 
Christ  all  their  lives  !  Might  they  not  have  said,  with  far 
clearer  emphasis,  when  the  hand  of  death  was  laid  on  Him, 
"  It  is  not  possible  that  he  should  be^holden  of  it?  " 

Recall,  if  you  can,  some  faint  outline  of  the  life  of 
Jesus  of  Nazareth.  Remember  the  clear  truthfulness  of 
his  speech,  cleansing  away  all  mists  of  error  and  perversity, 
as  the  north  wind  sweeps  away  the  fog  —  penetrating  to  the 
heart  of  all  moral  questions,  and  revealing  to  men  the 
secrets  of  their  own  hearts ;  remember  the  courage,  that 
confronted  and  denounced  the  religious  leaders  of  his  time, 
for  their  hypocrisy  and  greed  ;  remember  his  friendship  for 
the  outcasts  and  the  despised,  his,  readiness  to  identify  him- 
self with  the  poor,  as  well  as  to  sit  at  meat  with  the  rich  ; 
the  grand  independence  with  which  he  brushed  aside  the 
conventional  estimates  —  the  contempt  of  the  rich  for  the 
poor,  the  envy  of  the  poor  for  the  rich  —  and  dealt  with 
men  as  men;  remember  the  tireless  beneficence  and  the 
boundless  sympathy  of  his  life  —  how  he  went  about  doing 
good,  feeding  the  hungr}^,  healing  the  sick,  comforting  the 
sorrowful.  The  story  is  trite  and  hackneyed,  we  have  told 
it  over  so  often,  but  try  to  make  it  real  to  yourselves,  if  but 
in  some  faint  degree ;  try  to  imagine  what  a  subtle  and 
sacred  and  mighty  effluence  of  virtue  went  out  from  him 
continually ;  what  a  center  and  source  of  righteousness  and 
truth  and  love  he  was  wherever  he  stood  among  men ! 
And  now  suddenly  this  life  terminates.  By  wicked  hands 
this  Prince  of  Life  is  crucified  and  slain  !  Is  it  possible 
that  such  a  life,  so  pure  and  i)erfect  and  benignant,  should 


THE    NECESSTTV    OF    CHRrsT'S    RKSURliECTION.  235 

end  like  this?  Eliminate  all  the  miraculous ;  think  only  of 
the  moral  elements  that  entered  into  this  character ;  and 
does  it  not  seem  wholly  incredible  that  this  should  be  the 
end  of  it? 

"  But  the  disciples,"  it  may  be  said,  "  did  think  that 
Jesus  had  ceased  to  be."  No,  I  do  not  believe  that  they 
did.  They  were  dull  and  slow  of  heart ;  they  did  not 
understand  what  he  had  told  them  concerning  his 
reappearance  on  this  earth  ;  but  there  is  no  evidence  of  any 
doubt  in  their  minds  that  his  life  was  going  on,  beyond  the 
vail.  Even  this  faith  needeil  confirmation,  of  course,  and 
this  they  were  to  have  ;  but  their  grief  was  not  because 
they  feared  that  he  had  ceased  to  be,  but  only  because  he 
had  passed  away  from  them  without  restoring  the  Kingdom 
to  Israel.  It  was  partly  a  personal  bereavement,  and  partly 
a  patriotic  sorrow. 

It  is  hard  to  put  ourselves  into  the  places  of  these 
disciples,  mentally  ;  to  look  at  religious  questions  with  their 
eyes ;  to  surround  ourselves  with  the  haze  that  then 
enfolded  them.  But  go  l)ack  with  your  knowledge  of 
spiritual  truths  and  moral  laws,  with  your  convictions  that 
this  is  a  righteous  universe,  over  which  a  righteous  God  is 
ruling,  and  look  at  that  life  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth  and  then 
say  whether  it  is  possible  that  death  should  be  the  end  of 
it?  You  could  not  affirm  that  it  would  reappear  on  this 
earth;  on  that  point  expcriencf  could  give  you  no  encour- 
agement;, but  3'ou  could  say  that  there  ought  to  be  and 
must  be  given  to  that  life,  somewhere,  glory  and 
immortality. 

The  force  of  this  conclusion  respecting  all  highest  and 
noblest  life  it  is  hard  to  evade.     The  expectation  of  future 


236  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

existence  in  the  abstract  may  be  more  or  less  shadowy ;  but 
the  expectation  that  virtuous  life  will  continue  rests  on  the 
very  foundation  of  our  moral  nature.  And  there  is  a  great 
word  of  science  that  reaffirms  this  verdict  of  our  moral 
sense.  It  is  the  fittest  that  survive,  we  are  told.  And,  in  a 
moral  universe,  it  is  the  righteous,  surely,  who  are  fit  to 
survive. 

So  when  we  see  any  life  gathering  moral  force  and 
moral  beauty  through  all  its  years  on  earth,  accumulating  a 
great  fund  of  ripe  wisdom,  harvesting  the  fruits  of 
discipline  in  a  sanctified  character,  we  cannot  conceive  it  to 
be  true  that  death  ends  all.  That  would  be  a  moral 
absurdity.  How  is  it  possible  that  the.  power  of  goodness, 
of  purity,  of  love,  contained  in  this  character  should  stop 
short  at  the  grave,  vanishing  there  into  nothingness. 

You  stand  upon  some  elevated  spot,  where  you  can 
see,  far  down  the  valley,  a  railway'train  approaching.  The 
pennant  of  smoke  is  lifted  by  the  wind  as  the  train 
draws  nearer  and  nearer,  bending  round  the  curves, 
speeding  swiftly  along  the  straight  alignments,  its  first 
faint  murmur  deepening  into  an  audible  roar,  until  it 
rushes  past  you  swift,  majestic,  resistless,  the  very  incarna- 
tion of  motion  and  of  might.  Quickly,  almost  before 
your  nerves  have  ceased  to  thrill  with  the  onset  of  its 
power,  it  is  out  of  sight  behind  an  embankment,  and  out 
of  hearing  beyond  a  hill ;  in  a  moment,  in  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye,  it  is  gone.  Would  it  be  easy  for  you  now  to  believe 
that  that  wonderful  power  has  vanished  out  of  being;  that 
when  it  passed  beyond  your  sight  it  suddenly  ceased  to  be ; 
that  all  which  you  saw  and  felt  but  a  moment  ago  is  now 
nothing  but  a  memory?     No;  that  would  not  be  possible. 


THE    NECESSITY    OF    CHRIST'S    RESURRECTION.  337 

You  are  sure  that  the  glory  of  going  on  still  belongs  to  that 
wonderful  mechanism,  though  it  is  now  beyond  your  sight. 
And  it  seems  ,to  me  that  the  reasons  for  believing  in  the 
persistence  of  a  great  moral  force  after  it  has  disappeared 
from  these  scenes  of  earth  are  far  stronger.  Of  such  a 
power  we  say,  more  confidently  than  of  any  physical 
energy,  "  It  cannot  be  blotted  out ;  it  must  continue 
to  be." 

This  is  the  deepest  and  most  fundamental  of  the  moral 
convictions  of  men.  If  it  is  sometimes  silent  iu  the  sonl, 
it  is  because  the  moral  perceptions  have  been  dimmed  by 
sin.  It  was  to  strengthen  this  conviction,  to  demonstrate 
its  truth  and  its  reason,  to  give  the  world,  in  a  great  object 
lesson,  the  proof  that  virtue  does  not  die,  that  our  Lord 
came  back  to  earth.  It  was  not  only  to  show  his  own 
divinit}^ ;  it  was  also  to  show  that  virtue  and  holiness  are 
immortal. 

And  as  it  was  not  possible  that  he  should  be  holden  of 
death,  so  neither  is  it  possible  that  any  of  those  who  have 
his  life  in  them  should  be  detained  in  that  prison-house. 
This  is  no  arbitrary  decree  by  which  a  future  life  is  assured 
to  the  disciples  of  Christ;  it  is  the  law  of  the  universe. 
Over  such  characters  as  his  death  has  no  power ;  and  they 
who  by  faith  in  him  are  brought  into  harmony  with  him  in 
this  life  can  never  be  the  prey  of  the  spoiler.  "  He  that 
believeth  in  me,''  said  the  Master,  "  hath  everlasting  life." 
"  This  is  the  record,"  said  the  beloved  disciple,  "  that  God 
hath  given  to  us  eternal  life,  and  that  life  is  in  his  Son." 
Not  promised,  but  given.  It  is  not  to  be  hoped  for,  it  is  to 
be  rejoiced  in.  This  word  of  the  apostle's  is  not  a 
testament ;  it  is  an  inventory.     He  who  is  one  with  Christ, 


238  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

who  has  the  spirit  of  Christ,  hath  eternal  life.  What,  to 
him,  are  all  the  vicissitudes  and  perils  of  our  mortal  state, 
all  the  sullen  and  ominous  noises  of  the  flood  of  years 
whose  tides  steadily  gather  round  the  narrow  neck  of  land 
whereon  he  calmly  waits?  'There  is  a  hope  within  him  that 
many  waters  cannot  quench.  His  life  is  hid  with  Christ 
in  God. 


THE  GOSPEL   IN   THE  GRASS. 


1 1    Samuel    xxiii :    4. 

^'And  he  shall  he  as  the  light  of  the  morning  when  the  sun  riseth, 
even  a  morning  without  clouds;  as  the  tender  grass  springing  out 
of  the  earth  bg  clear  shining  after  rain.'' 

We  are  standing  once  more  among  the  glories  of  a 
new  world.  The  heavens  are  old,  they  change  not;  by 
day  the  same  soundless  blue  or  the  same  somber  curtain- 
ing of  clouds;  at  night  the  same  starry  cope,  upon  whose 
arches  the  same  constellations  flash,  in  whose  depths  of 
gloom  the  same  nebula^  are  hiding ;  but  the  earth  is  new ; 

we  see 

"In  all   that  meets  the  eyes 

The  freshness  of  a  glad  surprise.'.' 

New  color  is  in  the  meadows,  new  blooms  are  in  the  borders, 
new  songs  in  the  branches.  Some  of  the  old  furniture  of 
the  earth  is  here  — the  houses  in  which  we  live,  the  pave- 
ments on  which' we  walk;  but  the  world  itself  is  as  new 
as  it  was  when  God  first  called  the  dry  land  earth  and  the 
gathering  together  of  the  waters  seas  — as  new  and  a  thous- 
and times  as  beautiful.  How  do  I  know?  I  know  partly 
by  experience.     Is  there  any  knowledge  more  certain?     The 


2JtO  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

earth  is  a  great  deal  more  beautiful  now  than  it  was  when  "1 
was  a  boy ;  the  meadows  are  greener,  the  skies  of  May  are 
sunnier,  the  blended  colors  and  the  mingled  odors  and  the 
choiring  voices  of  the  world  are  fairer  and  sweeter  every 
year.  If  the  world  has  been  going  on  in  this  way  in  my 
short  day  —  from  glory  to  glory  —  it  is  not  unreasonable  to 
suppose  that  it  has  always  been  going  on  in  the  same  way ; 
and  that  it  was  far  less  beautiful  when  it  first  began  to  be 
than  it  is  to-day.  There  are  other  evidences,  to  other  minds 
doubtless  more  convincing,  but  I  will  not  go  into  them ; 
that  would  lead  us  aside  from  the  pleasant  paths  in  which 
this  morning  we  have  chosen  to  go. 

But  the  miracle  of  spring  once  more  repeated  before 
our  eyes,  the  return  of  the  birds  and  the  blossoms,  the 
reviving  of  life  in  the  fields  and  the  woods — this  is  not  to 
be  lightly  noted,  not  to  be  passed  by  as  comn)onplace,  but 
to  be  studied  with  reverence  and  beheld  with  wonder  and 
rejoiced  in  with  ever  increasing  thankfulness. 

Of  all  the  things  tliat  come  back  to  us  from  their  long 
exile  in  the  regions  of  winter,  not  the  least  pleasant,  not  the 
least  welcome  is  the  lowly  grass.  It  was  the  last  to  leave 
us  when  the  tribes  of  life  took  their  departure.  When  the 
winter  came  in  with  his  soft-footed  frosts,  and  his  careering 
blasts,  and  when,  before  his  onset  that  grew  deadlier,  day 
by  day,  one  after  another  of  the  green  things  growing  failed 
and  fled,  the  grass  held  its  ground  till  all  the  rest  had  gone ; 
bravely  it  covered  the  retreat  of  its  kindred ;  its  green  pen- 
ants  waved  in  the  rear  of  the  flying  foliage  and  the  depart- 
ing bloom.  The  brave  beauties  that  held  their  heads  so 
high  in  the  soft  days  of  spring  and  the  proud  months  of 
midsummer   vanished    long  before   the  grass  surrendered ; 


THE    GOSPEL    IN    THE    GRASS.  2^1 

the  forests,  after  all  their  songs  of  battle,  and  their  boastful 
notes  of  victory  over  winds  and  snows,  had  folded  their 
splendid  banners  many  a  day  when  the  grass  was  still  keep- 
ing guard  over  the  graves  of  the  dead  flowers.  The  last  to 
depart  it  is  the  first  to  return.  Long  before  there  is  any 
sign  of  life  in  woodland  or  garden,  long  before  the  crocus 
lifts  its  head,  and 

"  Daffodils 

That  come  before  the  swallow  dares  and  take 

The  winds  of  March  with  beaut)'," 

have  ventured  from  their  beds,  here  and  there  upon  a 
sunny  southern  slope  a  pale  golden  tinge  appears,  catching 
a  little  of  the  hue  of  the  sky  and  growing  steadily  greener ; 
and  the  heightening  color  shows  us  that  our  humble  fellow- 
creatures  and  steadfast  friends,  the  grasses,  are  coming 
back  to  clothe  the  world  with  beauty. 

The  words  that  I  read  for  my  text  suggest  not  only  to 
the  poet  a  simile  but  to  the  teacher  an  analogy.  They  are 
the  last  words  of  David.  "  David  the  son  of  Jesse  said,  and 
the  man  who  was  raised  up  on  high,  the  anointed  of  the 
God  of  Jacob,  and  the  sweet  psalmist  of  Israel,  said  :  The 
Spirit  of  the  Lord  spake  by  me,  and  his  word  was  on  my 
tongue.  The  God  of  Israel  said,  the  Rock  of  Israel  spake 
to  me.  He  that  ruleth  over  men  must  be  just,  ruling  in  the 
fear  of  God.  And  he  shall  be  as  the  light  of  the  morning 
when  the  sun  riseth,  even  a  morning  without  clouds ;  as  the 
tender  grass  springing  out  of  the  earth  by  clear  shining 
after  rain." 

The  King  of  men  must  be  clear  and  frank  and  open, 
ruling  by   truth   and  light,  and   not  by  artifice  and   diplo- 


^Jf.^  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

macy ;  a  man  without  guile  or  concealment ;  a  man  from 
whose  face  liars  and  tricksters  flee  as  the  fogs  flee  at  the 
sunrising — "a  morning  without  clouds."  So  much  is 
plain.  Just  how  the  ruler  is  like  unto  "  the  tender  grass 
springing  out  of  the  earth  by  clear  shining  after  rain,"  may 
not  be  so  evident.  To  our  thought  kingliness  would  seem 
more  aptly  figured  by  the  oak  or  the  elm,  the  palm  or  the 
pine,  or  some  more  stately  growth  of  the  kingdom  of 
plants.  It  may  be  that  King  David  was  thinking  of  his 
own  lowly  origin,  when  he  wrote  these  words ;  or  that  he 
meant  to  hint  at  the  humility  that  so  well  befits  the  great 
ones  of  earth.  But  though  we  may  not  be  able  to  see  very 
clearly  how  these  words  apply  to  kings  —  not  being  kings 
ourselves  —  we  may  discover  some  frCiitful  resemblances 
between  the  common  people,  the  rest  of  us,  and  the  tender 
grass  springing  out  of  the  earth  by  clear  shining  after  rain. 
At  any  rate,  we  may  discover  in  the  grass,  whose  return  to 
meadow  and  lawn  is  now  making  us  glad,  some  native 
qualities  that  we  by  free  choice  and  culture  of  the  soul  may 
seek  to  make  our  own.  For  there  is  no  glory  of  sky  or 
forest,  no  excellence  of  garden  or  meadow,  nothing  beau- 
tiful or  beneficent  in  the  world  about  us  that  may  not  have 
its  fair  reflection  within  us.  That  great  doctrine  of 
correspondences  taught  by  Swedenborg  is,  for  substance, 
true;  all  things  natural  are  symbols  of  things  spiritual; 
the  teacher  who  taught  in  parables  did  not  invent  but 
reported  the  similitudes  that  he  gave  us ;  and  the  tale  of 
the  parables  will  not  be  told  till  the  microscope  gives  up  its 
last  secret,  and  the  whole  boundless  universe  is  mapped 
and  dissected  and  analyzed. 

When  we  study  the  similitude  of  the  grass,  then,  we 
come  first   upon  the   quality    of    beauty.      He    who   made 


THE    GOSPEL     IN    THE    GRASS.  243 

everything  beautiful  in  its  season  made  the  grass  to  be 
beautiful  in  all  seasons.  The  flowers  have  each  its  month; 
though  the  foliage  is  bright  in  the  early  Spring  most  of  it 
grows  somewhat  dull  in  spite  of  our  best  endeavors;  but 
the  grass,  if  we  give  it  kindly  care,  will  show  us  its  beauty 
all  the  season  through,  from  early  March  to  late  November. 
How  fair  it  is  to  look  upon  !  How  winning  to  the  eyes  are 
the  tints  of  that  bank,  the  carpet  of  that  lawn  !  You  call 
the  grass  green,  but  how  many  other  hues  are  shot  through 
its  texture  !  The  sheen  of  burnished  gold  shines  up  from 
that  sunny  slope ;  a  ruddy  flush  passes  over  it  as  now  the 
wind  stirs  it ;  delicate  browns  and  maroons  and  softest 
purples  are  mingled  with  all  its  vernal  brightness.  The 
painter  who  uses  nothing  but  green  lakes  or  chromium  in 
painting  grass  gives  us  but  a  tame  and  conventional  picture 
of  its  mottled  and  variegated  masses. 

There  is  no  sight  so  restful  and  welcome  to  the  eye 
as  a  verdant  meadow  or  a  well  kept  lawn.  Other  natural 
growths  are  ga3'er  and  more  brilliant ;  they  strike  the  sense 
with  a  keener  excitement,  ))Ut  they  do  not  give  such  solid 
and  lasting  gratification.  The  beauty  of  the  grass  is  to 
other  natural  beauties  what  the  w-holesomeness  of  bread  is 
to  other  forms  of  nutriment  —  it  is  the  staff  of  visual 
pleasure  as  bread  is  of  life.  No  wonder  that  it  is ;  it  is  God 
who  so  clothes  it.  A  bright  flower  garden  is  a  goodly  sight, 
but  the  strongly  accentuated  color  wears  at  length  upon  the 
eye.  Mark  tells  of  the  feeding  of  the  five  thousand,  in  the 
place  where  there  was  "  much  grass ; "  the  people  were 
made  to  sit  down,  he  says,  platwise,  like  the  beds  in  a 
garden ;  the  gay  colors  of  the  Oriental  clothing  made  him 
think  of  the  resemblance ;  yet  the  frame  was  the  best  part 
of  the  picture,  no  doubt ;  the  grass,  that  spread  its  carpet 


QJ^Jf.  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

for  these  thousands  to  sit  upon,  was  what  the  eye-witness 
who  describes  the  scene  most  gratefully  remembers. 
Flowers  are  fair  to  see,  yet  round  about  our  homes  we 
choose  to  have  the  homely  grass ;  a  bit  of  color  here  and 
there  lights  it  up  prettily,  but  nothing  suits  a  home  so  well 
as  the  quiet  greenness  of  a  tidy  lawn. 

How  welcome  to  the  foot  as  well  as  to  the  eye  is  the 
carpet  of  the  early  meadow  !  From  the  uncertain  footing 
of  snow  and  ice,  and  the  stubbornness  of  frozen  ground 
and  the  dismal  depths  of  March  mud,  what  a  delight  it  is 
to  pass  out  upon  the  springing  turf  !  Many  a  wearied 
pedestrian  of  the  pavements  has  found  more  soothing  for 
his  nerves  in  such  a  quiet  stroll  across  a  suburban  pasture 
in  early  spring  than  all  the  drugs  of  the  dispensary  could 
give  him.  There  are  few  things  more  trying  to  a  tired  man 
than  the  brusque  legend  that  warns  him,  while  grinding 
along  upon  the  gravel  of  the  park,  to  "  keep  off  the  grass." 
It  is  a  hard  thing  to  do.  What  is  the  grass  for,  he  wants  to 
know,  if  not  to  be  a  cushion  for  pinched  and  (juivering  feet, 
and  a  couch  for  weary  limbs? 

The  beauty  and  delightsomeness  of  the  grass  is  scarcely 
marked,  I  suppose,  by  many  of  us,  and  chiefly  because  it  is 
such  a  common  thing,  and  such  a  modest  thing.  In  a 
showery  land  like  ours  the  abundance,  the  omnipresence  of 
the  grass  make  us  unmindful  of  the  pleasure  it  gives  us. 
It  enters  into  all  our  feasts  of  vision  as  a  most  delicate  and 
pervasive  flavoring,  but  we  cease  to  note  the  gratification 
that  it  brings.  It  incorporates  itself  into  our  life  so  fully 
that  we  take  its  good  as  we  take  the  air  or  the  sun- 
light, as  a  matter  of  course.  Shut  it  away  from  our  sight 
for  one    week  of    midsummer    and   we    should    begin    to 


THE    GOSPEL    IN    THE    GRASS.  ^43 

know  how  largely  it  enters  into  the  sum  of  our  enjoyments. 
Its  modesty,  I  say,  as  well  as  its  commonness,  is  a 
reason  why  we  do  not  think  much  about  it.  Nothing  else 
gives  us  so  much  pleasure,  yet  nothing  is  so  unpretending 
as  the  grass.  It  does  not  seek  to  flame  in  the  sunshine 
as  the  flowers  do,  or  to  have  the  winds  blow  its  trumpet 
as  the  forests  do ;  its  only  voice  is  the  gentlest  of  sighs, 
audible  only  to  one  who  bows  down  to  listen  ;  but  it  keeps 
pouring  into  our  lives  a  steady  tide  of  gracious  ministries. 
The  flower  of  grass  — for  grass,  like  all  its  gayer  kindred, 
has  its  own  perfect  flower  — is  the  very  incarnation  of 
modesty.  Studying  this,  let  us  listen  to  an  interpretation 
of  the  parable  of  the  grass,  as  its  qualities  are  traced  by 
one  of  keenest  insight  in  a  gracious  human  life  : 

"  The  gracefulness  that  homely  life  takes  on 

When  love  is  at  its  roots,  you  saw  in  her ; 

No  color,  but  soft  tints  in  lovely  blur  — 
A  charm  which  if  so  much  as  named  was  gone 

Like  light  out  of  a  passing  cloud.     Yet  when 
The  fairer  faces  bloomed  on  you  alone, 

Without  the  softening  of  her  presence,  then 
Into  their  look  had  something  garish  grown ; 

A  tenderness  had  faded  from  the  air  — 
A  loss  so  snble  and  so  undefined, 

The  thought  was  blamed  that  hinted  loss  was  there. 

The  nature  of  such  souls  is  to  be  blind 
To  self  and  to  self-seeking ;  let  them  blend 

Their  life  as  harmony  and  atmosphere 
With  other  lives ;  let  them  but  have  a  friend 

Whose  merit  they  may  set  ofl"  or  endear, 


246  THTNOS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

"  And  they  are  gladder  than  in  any  guess 
Or  dream  of  their  own  separate  happiness. 

Earth  were  not  sweet  without  such  souls  as  hers ; 

Even  of  the  rose  and  lily  one  might  tire ; 
She  was  the  flower  of  grass,  that  only  stirs 

To  soothe  the  air,  and  nothing  doth  require 
But  to  forget  itself  in  doing  good  — 
One  of  life's  lowly,  saintly  multitude." 

Thus  our  friend  has  taught  us  one  of  the  revelations 
of  the  Gospel  in  the  grass.  It  is  this  unostentatious 
beauty,  this  humble  ministry,  this  quiet  and  self-forgetful 
service  that  the  grass  symbolizes  in  leg^f  and  flower.  For 
such  ministry  as  this  no  brilliant  parts,  no  shining  excel- 
lences of  person  or  of  mind  are  wanting.  The  humblest  of 
us  are  called  to  it,  and  fitted  to  perform  its  sacred  oflSces. 
Even  as  a  homely  and  common  thing  like  the  grass  makes 
up  far  the  largest  part  of  the  great  sum  of  visible  beauty 
spread  for  the  delight  of  men,  so  the  homely  virtues  that 
adorn  the  characters  and  the  common  services  that  spring 
from  the  love  of  lowly  men  and  women  m;ike  up  by  far  the 
largest  part  of  the  blessedness  of  life  in  the  world.  It  is 
not  the  great  makers  of  verse  or  song  or  statue,  nor  the 
great  builders,  nor  the  great  Captains,  nor  the  great  explo- 
rers that  are  doing  the  most  for  this  woi'ld,  though  the  ser- 
vices that  some  of  these  have  rendered  may  well  be  praised ; 
it  is  the  unknown  multitudes  to  whom  most  of  our  thanks 
are  due ;  the  multitudes  whose  fidelity,  whose  tenderness, 
whose  patient  labor  clothes  the  earth  with  beauty,  as  the 
tender  grass  springing  out  of  the  earth  by  clear  shining 
after  rain. 


THE    GOSPEL     r.V    THE    GRASS.  2Jf[ 

"  '  What  shall  I  do,  lest  life  in  silence  pass?  ' 
'  And  if  it  do, 
And  never  prompt  the  bray  of  noisy  brass. 

What  needst  thou  rue? 
Remember,  aj'e  the  ocean-depths  are  mute  ; 

The  shallows  roar; 
Worth  is  the  ocean  ;  fame  is  but  the  bruit 
Along  the  shore.'  " 

We  have  seen  that  the  grass  ministers  directly  to  the 
spiritual  nature  of  man,  by  furnishing  him  an  innocent 
pleasure,  by  filling  him  with  a  quiet  joy  which  beauty 
always  brings,  by  preaching  to  him  its  own  pure  gospel  of 
gentleness  and  grace.  But  it  ministers  to  coarser  needs 
than  these.  It  serves  us  in  a  way  that  will  be  .more  obvious 
to  the  unreflecting,  yet  that  is  still  indirect  and  mediate. 
The  physical  wants  of  men  the  grass  does  not  directly 
supply.  The  psalmist  is  speaking  the  language  of  science 
as  well  as  of  poetry  when  he  says,  "  He  causeth  the  grass  to 
grow  for  the  cattle  and  herb  for  the  service  of  man."  The 
word  here  translated  "herb"  in  the  original  signifies  those 
plants  which  are  edible  V)y  man ;  the  word  translated  grass, 
all  those  plants  which  furnish  food  mainly  to  animals. 
This  is  the  chief  economical  use  of  the  grass.  It  does  not 
nourish  our  bodies  directly  ;  but  it  nourishes  the  lives  of 
those  creatures  upon  which  we  subsist.  Is  this  ministry 
any  the  less  beneficent  because  it  is  indirect?  Are  we  any 
less  indebted  to  the  grass  because  the  substance  that  its 
life  organizes  for  us  comes  to  us  through  other  lives  which 
it  feeds  and  nourishes? 

Here  again  we  find  a  lesson  that  need  not  detain  us 


2J^8  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

long.  Much  of  the  good  that  we  do  will  be  done  indirectly. 
Truth  that  we  impart  to  those  nearest  us  will  V^e  imparted 
by  them  in  their  turn  to  others.  Impressions  made  upon 
the  lives  of  those  about  us  by  our  characters  and  conduct 
will  be  reflected  from  th#ir  lives  to  the  lives  of  others.  But 
this  is  not  all.  We  must  not  forget  that  much  indirect  and 
preparatory  work  must  needs  be  done  in  morals  and 
in  religion.  It  is  not  always  possible  for  us  to  reach 
directly  the  ultimate  and  supreme  results  of  character  in 
our  work  for  others.  It  is  sometimes  a  question  whether 
those  results  are  in  any  way  directly  att:dnable.  The  ways 
of  spiritual  culture  are  sometimes  long  and  circuitous ;  and 
there  is  no  royal  road  to  character  any  more  than  to 
knowledge.  You  would  like  to  see  the  life  of  your  friend 
and  neighbor  wholly  transformed.  He  is  now  a  gross, 
hard-natured,  selfish  man  ;  you  want  to  see  him  changed 
into  a  gentle,  amiable,  pure-minded  man.  That  is  a  most 
benevolent  wish.  But  perhaps  if  you  should  go  to  work  to 
secure  that  great  change  by  preaching  to  him  immediate 
repentance  and  radical  reformation,  you  might  fail  of  your 
pnrpose.  That  is  just  what  he  ought  to  do,  no  doubt 
of  that ;  but  perhaps  he  is  not  yet  ready  for  a  moral 
revolution.  It  is  sometimes  necessary  to  take  a  character 
by  siege ;  the  attempt  to  take  it  by  storm  is  not  only  futile 
but  disastrous.  A  great  many  things  can  be  done  for  this 
man  that  would  tend  indirectly,  but  very  effectually  to 
bring  about  this  result  in  his  character.  If  you  preached 
repentance  to  him  he  might  turn  you  out  of  doors ;  but  if 
you  igive  him  a  kindly  word  as  iiow  and  then  you  meet 
him ;  if  you  show  yourself  his  friend  sometimes  at  cost  to 
yourself  of  time   or   toil   or  wounded  sensibility ;    if  you 


THE    GOSPEL    IN    THE    GRASS.  2^9 

approve  yourself  to  him  as  the  servant  of  a  better  Master, 
by  pureness,  by  long-suffering,  by  kindness,  by  the  Holy 
Ghost,  by  love  unfeigned,  by  the  word  of  truth,  by  the 
power  of  God,  by  the  armor  of  righteousness  on  the  right 
hand  and  on  the  left,  the  Gospel*  as  incarnated  in  you 
may  make  its  impression  on  him,  and  though  he  would  not 
receive  your  message  when  he  heard  it  from  your  lips,  he 
may  be  constrained  to  heed  it  when  he  sees  it  organized 
into  your  life. 

We  sometimes  seek  to  reform  men  who  have  fallen  into 
vice,  and  fail  because  we  aim  directly  at  the  result,  and  are 
not  ready  to  do  the  indirect  and  preparatory  work  which  is 
necessary  in  order  that  the  reform  may  have  some  sure 
ground  to  go  upon.  This  man  is  a  drunkard.  You  want 
him  to  sign  the  pledge.  That  may  be  well ;  but  the  danger 
is  that  he  may  not  keep  it.  The  man's  habit  of  drinking  is 
not  an  ultimate  and  isolated  fact,  out  of  all  relation  to 
other  facts  of  his  life  and  environment.  There  are  reasons 
why  he  drinks  ;  they  are  not  good  and  sufficient  reasons  ; 
they  are  bad  and  insufficient  reasons;  but  they  serve  as 
motives  to  lead  him  into  this  evil  course.  You  must  get 
down  to  them,  if  you  can,  and  remove  them.  Perhaps  he  is 
out  of  work,  and  low-spirited,  and  takes  to  drink  in  the 
hope  of  forgetting  his  anxieties.  It  is  the  device  of  a 
fool,  of  course;  for  the  remedy  only  aggravates  the  disease; 
but  this  man  is  just  such  a  fool  as  that,  and  there  are  many 
such.  If  you  could  help  him  to  find  work  you  might 
indirectlv  but  very  efiiciently  help  him  to  reform.  Perhaps 
he  is  lonely,  and  takes  tofcthe  di-am-shop  for  society.  Thei-e 
ought  to  be  places  enough  where  he  could  find  pleasanter 
society.     If   you   will   provide  such   places  and  bring  him 


250  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

into  them,  and  make  him  at  home  in  them,  you  will 
indirectly  aid  him  to  break  off  his  evil  habit.  Perhaps  he 
is  wretched  for  some  unexplained  cause,  and  foolishly 
seeks  to  forget  his  wretchedness  in  the  momentary'-  exhilera- 
tion  of  the  cup.  If  so,  by  doing  what  you  innocently  can 
to  make  him  happier  you  will  take  away  a  good  part  of  his 
temptation. 

My  friends,  this  great  evil' of  drunkenness  is  not  merely 
the  source  of  misery,  it  is  a  symptom  of  misery  as  well. 
People  are  not  only  miserable  because  they  drink,  they 
drink  because  they  are  miserable,  and  you  will  never  get 
them  to  stop  drinking,  by  the  strongest  laws  that  men  can 
make  and  the  strongest  pledges  men  can  frame,  until  you 
get  at  some  of  the  causes  of  their  vice  and  misery  and 
remove  them.  The  indirect  work  to  be  done  in  removing 
the  evil  of  intemperance  is  measureless  in  its  extent,  and  in 
its  urgency,  and  the  people  who  think  they  can  cure  it  all 
by  legislation  or  by  preaching,  either,  have  but  childish 
notions  of  the  real  causes  of  it,  or  the  depth  to  which 
its  roots  go  down. 

So,  then,  the  parable  of  the  grass  has  taught  us  once 
more  not  to  despise  the  ministry  that  is  indirect  and  medi- 
ate, that  spends  itself  before  its  end  is  reached  ;  the  service 
that  begins  a  long  way  from  the  reward  and  works  toward 
it  silently  and  patiently,  content  to  merge  itself  in  other 
lives,  and  to  let  the  fruit  of  its  sowing  be  reaped  by  other 
hands. 

In  the  gospel  of  the  grass  we  read  also  a  homily  on 
discipline  and  how  to  bear  it.  The*grass  thrives  on  it.  The 
oftener  it  is  cut  the  greener  is  its  hue,  the  thicker  its  texture 
the  softer  the  nap  of  its  velvety  carpeting.     You  can  over- 


THE    GOSPEL     IN    THE    GRASS.  251 

prune  almost  everything  else  that  grows  except  the  grass. 
All  of  us  need  more  or  less  discipline,  but  we  do  not 
always  take  it  kindly.  It  is  for  our  own  good  that  we  are 
cut  back  now  and  then.  "Every  branch  in  me  that  beareth 
fruit  he  purgeth  it  that  it  may  bring  forth  more  fruit." 
But  these  severities,  though  they  are  calculated  to  bring 
forth  the  peaceable  fruits  of  righteousness,  do  not  always 
have  that  effect,  because  of  our  perverseness.  We  some- 
times weep,  as  the  vine  does  when  it  is  trimmed,  pouring 
out  the  strength  of  our  lives  in  unavailing  lamentations. 
This  is  not  needful,  nor  is  it  right.  It  is  for  us  to  choose 
how  we  will  be  affected  by  the  trials  through  which  we 
pass ;  it  is  for  us  to  find  in  the  discipline  of  life  what  the 
grass  finds  under  the  whirling  knives  of  the  mower,  refine- 
ment  and   vigor   and    beauty. 

One  of  the  commonest  of  the  messages  of  the  grass  to 
men  is  the  truth  of  our  mortality :  "  As  for  man  his  days 
are  as  grass ;  as  a  flour  of  the  field  so  he  flourisheth  ;  for 
the  wind  passeth  over  it  and  it  is  gone,  and  the  place 
thereof  knoweth  it  no  more.  In  the  morning  they  are  like 
grass  that  groweth  up.  In  the  morning  it  flourisheth  and 
groweth  up.  In  the  evening  it  is  cut  down  and  withereth." 
I  need  not  emphasize  the  message.  Even  amid  the  fresh 
verdure  of  May  you  will  not  forget  it.  The  tender  grass 
springing  out  of  the  earth  to-day  will  soon  return  to  earth 
as  it  was,  and  so  will  you.  "  Whatsoever  therefore  thy 
hand    now    findeth    to   do,   do   it   with   thy  might." 

But  there  is  one  more  message  not  quite  so  common- 
place, that  we  will  hear  before  we  go,  by  the  lips  of  another 
interpreter,   from   this   lowly  preacher : 


252         .  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

"  My  days  are  as  the  grass ; 
Softly  my  seasons  pass, 

And  like  the  flower  of  the  field  I  fade ; 
O  soul,  dost  thou  not  see 
The  wise  have  likened  thee 

To  the  most  living  creature  that  is  made? 

' '  My  days  are  as  the  grass ; 
The  sliding  waters  pass 
Under  my  roots ;  upon  me  drops  the  cloud ; 
^  And  not  the  stately  trees 

Have  kindlier  ministries ; 
The  heavens  are  too  lofty  to  be  proud. 

"  My  days  are  as  the  grass ; 
The  feet  of  trouble  pass 

And  leave  me  trampled  that  I  cannot  rise  ; 
But  wait  a  little  while, 
And  I  shall  lift  and  smile 

Before  the  sweet  congratulating  skies  !  " 

' '  My  days  are  as  the  grass ; 
Soon  out  of  sight  I  pass, 

And  in  the  bleak  earth  I  must  hide  my  head ; 
The  wind  that  passes  o'er 
Will  find  my  place  no  more  — 

The  wind  of  death  will  tell  that  I  am  dead. 

"  But  how  shall  I  rejoice. 
When  I  shall  hear  the  voice 

Of  Him  who,  keeping  Spring  with  Him  alway 
Lest  hope  from  man  should  pass, 
Hath  made  us  as  the  grass, 

The  grass  that  always  has  another  day  !  " 


THE  CONSECRATION  OF  THE  PEOPLE. 


ZECHARIAH     IV:     Il-I4. 

"  Then  answered  I  and  said  unto  him,  What  are  these  two  olive  trees 
upon  the  right  side  of  the  candlestick  and  upon  the  left  side 
thereof f  And  I  answ.red  again  and  said  unto  him,  What  be 
these  two  olive  branches  which  through  the  two  golden  pipes  empty 
the  golden  oil  out  of  themselves f  And  he  answered  me  and  said, 
Knowest  thou  not  what  these  bet  And  I  said,  No,  my  Lord. 
Then  said  he.  These  are  the  two  anointed  ones,  that  stand  by  the 
Lord  of  the  whole  earth." 

This  vision  of  the  prophet  is  much  less  mystical  than 
many  of  those  recorded  in  the  Old  Testament.  The  picture 
that  he  saw  is  set  before  us  with  distinctness,  and  the 
meaning   of   the    symbol   is   not   obscure. 

"As  a  man  that  is  wakened  out  of  his  sleep"  was 
the  prophet,  when  before  his  eyes  came  this  bright  vision. 
"What  seest  thou?"  demanded  the  revealing  and  inter- 
preting angel.  And  the  prophet  made  reply:  "I  have 
looked  and  behold  a  candlestick  all  of  gold,  with  a  bowl 
upon  the  top  of  it  — [the  bowl  being,  no  doubt,  the  common 
reservoir  for  the  oil]  and  his  seven  lamps  thereon,'  and 
seven  pipes  to  the  seven  lamps  which  are  upon  the  top 
thereof  [the  pipes,  evidently,  communicating  with  the  bowl.] 


25J^  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

And  the  two  olive  trees  by  it,  one  upon  the  right  side  of  the 
bowl  and  one  upon  the  left  side  thereof."  Moreover  these 
olive  trees  were  connected  by  golden  pipes  with  the  bowl  of 
the  great  candlestick,  and  they  were  continually  emptying 
the  golden  oil  out  of  themselves  into  this  bowl,  supplying, 
in  this  manner,  the  lamps  with  abundance  of  oil.  Such 
was  the  striking  symbol  that  appeared  to  the  prophet. 
It  is  not  strange  that  it  riveted  his  attention  and  aroused 
his  wonder. 

The  significance  of  the  central  figure  —  the  candlestick, 
or  candelabrum,  all  of  gold  —  he  knows  perfectly.  Con- 
cerning that  he  asks  no  questions.  Is  the  meaning  equally 
clear   to   all   of   us? 

To  every  student  of  the  Biblical  symbolism  the  answer 
will  at  once  be  suggested.  The  golden  candelabrum  or 
lamp-stand  always  symbolizes  the  Church.  In  the  Apoca- 
lypse the  seven  candlesticks,  or  lamp-stands,  are  the  seven 
churches.  The  Church  is  represented,  not  as  the  light 
of  the  world,  but  as  the  receptacle  or  support  of  the  light. 
The  light  is  divine ;  the  flame  that  illuminates  and  cheers 
and  warms  and  vivifies  is  kindled  from  off  the  heavenly 
altars ;  it  is  the  Promethean  spark  by  which  the  world 
is  enlightened ;  but  the  place  where  this  divine  fire  is 
guarded  and  kept  burning  is  the  Church  of  God.  This 
is  the  point  at  which  the  divine  energy  and  the  human 
sensibility  meet  and  mingle.  The  spirit  of  man  is  the 
candle  of  the  Lord ;  the  Church  is  the  candlestick  in  which 
the  light  is  set,  that  its  flame  may  be  protected,  and  its 
brightness  diffused.  The  single  lamp-stand,  seen  by  the 
Revelator  in  the  Apocalypse,  may  be  regarded  as  repre- 
senting the  local  church  ;  the  great'  candelabrum,  with  its 


THE    CONSECRATION    OF    THE    PEOPLE.  255 

seven  branching  lamps,  the  symbol  of  completeness,  may 
be  the  type  of   the  church  universal. 

To  the  mind  of  this  prophet,  however,  the  figure  had  a 
larger  meaning  than  these  words  have  conveyed  to  most 
of  us.  The  candelabrum  all  of  gold  was  indeed  to  him  the 
symbol  of  the  Church  of  God  in  its  latter-day  glory ;  but 
what,  to  him,  was  the  Church  of  God?  Was  it  an  organi- 
zation purely  religious,  concerning  itself  wholly  with 
worship  and  sacrifice,  with  those  interests  that  we  call 
spiritual  as  contrasted  with  those  that  we  call  secular? 
By  no  means.  The  Jewish  Church  and  the  Jewish  nation 
were  not  twain  but  one.  That  sharp  discrimination  which 
we  make  between  things  sacred  and  things  secular  the 
devout  Jew  did  not  make  at  all.  Between  politics  and 
religion  he  drew  no  line ;  economics  and  ethics  did  not 
belong  to  separate  realms;  if  one  part  of  life  was  more 
sacred  than  another,  it  was  only  a  matter  of  more  and  less ; 
there  was  no  radical  diversity  among  its  parts ;  they  were 
all  held  together  in  one  divine  unity.  The  last  words 
of  this  prophecy  of  Zechariah  put  strikingly  before  us  this 
deepest  thought  of  the  Hebrew  religion :  '"  In  that  day 
shall  there  be  upon  the  bells  of  the  horses.  Holiness  unto 
THE  Lord"  —  the  same  sublime  inscription  that  was  engra- 
ven on  the  High  Priest's  crown  ;  "  and  the  pots  in  the  Lord's 
house"  —  the  least  honorable  of  all  the  temple  vessels  — 
"shall  be  like  the  bowls  before  the  altar"  — the  most  sacred 
vases  that  received  the  blood  of  the  sacrificial  victims. 
And  not  only  so  :  "  every  pot  in  Jerusalem  and  in  Judah 
shall  be  Holiness  unto  the  Lord  of  hosts."  The  very 
kitchen  utensils  in  the  homes  of  the  people  should  be 
counted  sacred,  for  all  life  was  to  be  sanctified ;  every  meal 


256  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

should  be  a  sacrament  and  every  menial  task  a  holy  service. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  this  old  Hebrew  conception  is 
a  little  nobler  and  finer  than  the  theory  of  life  that 
generally  prevails  among  us.  For  certain  historical  rea- 
sons, which  we  cannot  now  carefully  trace,  we  have  come 
to  make  a  broad  distinction  between  that  part  of  life  which 
is  sacred,  and  that  part  which  'is  secular.  Temporalities 
are  in  one  category,  and  spiritualities  in  another ;  and  we 
think  of  the  two  classes  of  interests  as  antithetical  and 
even  hostile  the  one  to  the  other.  So  we  divide  the  Church 
from  the  State  by  a  bottomless  chasm,  and  make  politics 
and  religion  two  wholly  distinct  departments  of  life. 

There  are  reasons  for  this,  as  I  have  said ;  for  our 
fathers  came  in  contact  with  a  kind  of  union  between  the 
temporal  and  spiritual  powers  against  which,  with  good 
cause,  they  protested  and  fought.  We  have  inherited  their 
repugnance  and  have  emphasized  their  protest.  .  Indeed  we 
have  gone  much  further  than  they  ever  went  in  insisting 
upon  the  separation  of  the  Church  from  the  State.  They 
were  opposed  to  some  kinds  of  union  between  the 
spiritual  and  the  temporal  governments,  but  not  to  all 
kinds.  They  feared  the  Papacy,  with  its  persecution  of 
heretics  by  the  secular  arm  ;  they  did  not  love  the  English 
establishment  much  better,  nor  indeed  had  they  much  more 
reason ;  but  many  among  them  did  think  it  would  be  an 
excellent  thing  to  have  their  own  form  of  faith  established 
and  enforced  by  law.  They  were  not  agreed  about  this  ;  for 
there  was  a  party  among  them  who  consistently  opposed  all 
establishments  of  religion,  and  wished  that'  no  form  of 
faith  should  be  proscribed,  and  none  prescribed  ;  that  all 
should  be  protected  and  all  be  free.     Yet  the  Pilgrims,  who 


THE    CONSECRATION    OF    FITE    PEOPLE.  257 

belonged  to  this  latter  party,  made  no  clear  distinction,  in 
the  organization  of  their  colon}^  between  the  secular  and 
the  spiritual ;  in  fact  they  came  not  to  found  a  State,  at  all, 
but  only  a  Church;  the  spiritual  element  overshadowed 
and  dwarfed  the  ten)poral.  Their  reason  for  coming,  as 
given  in  their  own  words,  was  "the  great  hope  and  inward 
zeal  they  had  of  laying  some  good  foundation  for  the 
propagating  and  advancing  the  Kingdom  of  Christ  in  these 
remote  parts  of  the  world."  And  in  all  the  communities 
planted  b}^  them  throughout  New  England,  town  an4 
Church  were  one ;  none  but  Church  members  could  vote  in 
town  meeting ;  the  town  built  the  church  and  the  parson- 
age, called  the  minister,  and  paid  his  salary.  The  theories 
of  our  fathers  about  the  relations  of  Church  and  State  were 
therefore  somewhat  confused,  and  their  practices  not  always 
in  accordance  with  their  principles.  Yet  there  was  some- 
thing noble  in  their  inconsistency.  They  were  clinging  to 
an  ideal  that  it  was  hard  to  realize ;  they  were  endeavoring 
to  work  out  a  scheme  that  required  for  its  successful 
operation  a  degree  of  spirituality  and  charity  that  was  not 
possessed  by  their  generation,  and  has  not  been  gained  by 
any  succeeding  generation.  It  was  inevitable,  when  free- 
dom of  thought  on  religious  subjects  was  granted,  that 
there  would  be  diversities  of  opinion ;  that  these  diversities 
would  be  emphasized  and  magnified  by  human  selfishness 
and  contentiousness,  until  they  became  hardened  into  sects; 
that  the  State  must  then  withdraw  from  all  affiliation  with 
these  contending  sects,  protecting  all,  and  preferring  none  ; 
and  that  thus  the  union  of  the  temporal  and  the  spiritual 
realms  which  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  undertook  to  establish  on 
these  shores  should  come  to  an  end. 


258  ■  THING  f>    NEW    AND    OLD. 

The  complete  divorce  between  the  Church  and  the  State 
which  exists  among  us  is,  therefore,  the  result  of  sectarian 
divisions.  If  there  were  but  one  Church,  or  if,  in  the  great 
interests  for  which  they  are  working,  there  were  a  real 
practical  unity  among  Christians  of  all  names,  it  would  be 
easy  to  secure  a  much  closer  affiliation  of  the  Church  with 
the  State.  That  such  a  practical  unity  is  one  day  to  be 
realized,  I  have  no  doubt.  The  era  of  schism  is  passing. 
There  have  been  days  when,  as  the  Psalmist  says,  "  a  man 
,was  famous  according  as  he  had  lifted  up  axes  upon  the 
thick  trees,"  yea,  upon  the  goodly  cedars  that  stand  for  pil- 
lars of  the  temple  of  God.  The  church-splitter  has  been  a 
conspicuous  and  highly  popular  personage ;  the  founder  of 
a  new  sect  was  almost  as  distinguished  as  the  inventor  of  a 
new  patent  medicine.  Thus  a  late  Russian  explorer  was 
able  to  find  on  this  continent,  as  he  said,  three  hundred  and 
sixty-five  difierent  religions,  not  one  of  which,  we  may  add, 
was  simple  Christianity ;  every  one  of  which  was  a  little 
more  or  a  little  less  than  simply  Christian,  and  unchristian 
to  precisely  the  extent  to  which  it  emphasized  its  pet  pecu- 
liarity. This  is  religious  liberty  run  mad.  For  such  a  state 
of  things  there  is  no  justification.  People  keep  saying  that 
the  division  of  the  church  into  sects  is  a  good  thing ;  what 
sort  of  a  good  thing  ?  Is  it  one  of  those  good  things  of 
which  it  is  not  possible  to  have  too  much  ?  Shall  we  go  on 
splitting  the  church  into  smaller  and  smaller  fragments  ? 
If  not,  why  not  ?  Are  there  too  many  of  these  fragments 
now  ?  And  if  there  are,  where  shall  we  begin  the  work  of 
consolidation,  and  where  shall  we  stop  ?  Suppose  that  in 
this  work  of  gathering  together  the  scattered  groups  of 
disciples,  we  had  reduced  the  "  three  hundred  and  sixty-five 


THE    CONSECRATION    OF    THE    PEOPLE.  259 

religions,"  more  or  less,  of  the  Russian  traveler  to  a  dozen, 
or  a  half  dozen  ?  Would  that  be  just  enough  ?  Would  not 
the  reasons  that  had  urged  union  up  to  this  point  continue 
to  urge  a  further  effort  in  the  direction  of  unity  ?  Depend 
upon  it,  my  friends,  when  that  movement  toward  unity  once 
sets  in,  it  will  sweep  away  all  the  barriers  of  sectarianism. 
Sectarianism  is  tlie  fruit  of  intellectual  pride  and  self-will 
and  passion  for  leadership ;  so  long  as  these  bad  elements 
rule  in  the  Church,  divisions  will  continue  and  multiply, 
and  there  is  no  end  to  them ;  the  doctrine  of  the  infinite 
divisibility  of  the  Church  and  the  blessedness  of  disunion 
come  to  be  regarded  as  elements  of  orthodoxy.  But  once 
let  the  principles  of  Christianity  itself  begin  to  control  the 
organization  of  churches  ;  once  let  men  begin  to  see  that 
tolerance  and  self-denial,  and  a  spirit  of  co-operation  are 
virtues  that  are  required  in  the  organization  and  manage- 
ment of  churches  as  much  as  in  the  relations  of  individuals, 
and  the  centripetal  and  cohesive  forces  will  begin  to  act  ir- 
resistibly. The  pressure  of  these  forces  is  already  felt  in 
many  quarters ;  the  era  of  disintegration  is  well  nigh  past ; 
the  era  of  consolidation  is  at  hand.  We  shall  keep  all  de- 
sirable diversities  of  ritual  and  polity  ;  we  shall  not  have 
uniformity  in  the  modes  of  worship  or  of  w^ork  ;  but  w^e 
shall  have,  by  and  b}',  a  real  and  practical  union  of  believers 
in  Christian  work ;  a  union  that  shall  sweep  away  the 
hateful  and  wasteful  rivalries  between  churches,  and  replace 
them  with  good  will,  and  mutual  helpfulness ;  so  that 
nothing  shall  be  done  for  sect's  sake  merely,  but  everything 
for  Christ's  sake  and  the  gospel's. 

Of  course  this  practical  union  can  never  be  realized, 
until  the  different  sects  all   learn  to  exalt  that  which  is 


260  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

essential,  above  that  which  is  secondary.  The  things  that 
are  essential  are  the  values  of  character  —  righteousness, 
purity  and  love  ;  the  things  that  are  secondary  are  rites  and 
forms  and  dogmas.  It  is  only  by  making  these  lesser 
things  supreme  that  sects  are  created ;  the  moment  the 
values  of  character,  the  interests  of  righteousness,  the 
motives  of  love  are  made  supreme,  the  sects  and  schisms 
will  cease.  There  will  still  be  diversities  of  administration, 
but  there  will  be  substantial  union — a  union  not  merely 
sentimental,  but  practical ;  friendly  consultation,  and  co- 
operation among  Christians  of  every  name  in  every  com- 
munity, resulting  in  the  concentration  of  their  energies 
upon  their  common  work — one  Church  to  all  iritents  and 
purposes,  realizing,  as  it  has  never  yet  been  realzed  in  this 
world,  the  last  prayer  of  Christ  for  his  disciples. 

And  when  the  Church  of  God  in  the  world  shall  thus 
be  one,  it  will  be  possible  to  bring  it  into  the  closest  rela- 
tions with  the  State.  So  long  as  the  Church  stands  mainly 
for  dogmas  or  rites  or  forms  its  separation  from  the  State 
must  be  complete  ;  but  so  soon  as  the  Church  shall  unitedly 
stand  for  righteousness  as  the  principal  thing,  its  main 
interest  will  be  identical  with  the  main  interest  of  the  State, 
and  the  two  must  meet  and  mingle;  they  cannot  stay 
apart ;  Christians,  standing  together  in  one  body,  will  take 
yjossession  of  the  State,  will  he  the  State ;  and  they  will 
administer  its  affairs  in  such  a  way  as  to  secure  justice  and 
order,  purity  and  peace,  safe  liberty  and  firm  government. 
Thus  the  vision  of  the  prophet  shall  come  true  ;  the  candle- 
stick, all  of  gold,  that  symbolizes  no  mere  "churchdom,  and 
no  mere  secular  satrapy,  but  the  one  undivided  Kingdom  of 
God  in  the  world,  shall  be  lifted  to  its  place  in  that  temple 


THE    CONSECRATION    OF    THE    PEOPLE.  261 

of  redeemed  humanity  that  shall  stand  at  the  latter  day  in 
the  midst  of  the  city  of  God. 

The  wish  for  the  union  of  Church  and  State  which  has 
always  been  cherished  by  some  good  men  is  not  then  a 
chimera  ;  it  is  a  prophecy  of  the  thing  that  shall  be.  Like 
a  great  many  other  good  things,  the  time  is  not  yet  ripe  for 
it ;  and  its  advent  cannot  be  forced,  any  more  than  you  can 
hasten  by  resolutions,  or  laws,  or  constitutional  amend- 
ments the  coming  of  the  Spring;  but  come  at  length  it 
surely  will.  When  the  Church  and  the  State  both  come 
into  the  full  comprehension  of  their  real  mission  in  the 
earth,  they  will  unite  as  quickly  and  as  perfectly  as  two 
water  drops  that  rush  together  when  they  touch  and  are 
mingled  into  one.  Then  it  will  appear  that  what  we  call  the 
State  is  not  less  sacred  than  what  we  call  the  Church  ;  that 
all  life  is  sacred ;  that  the  high  calling  of  God  summons  us 
not  only  to  the  closet  and  the  altar,  but  to  the  workshop, 
the  kitchen,  the  school,  the  field,  the  forum,  the  court, —  to 
be,  in  every  vocation,  witnesses  for  Christ  and  servants 
of  man.  "And  this,"  says  Dr.  Bushnell.  in  a  noble  passage, 
"  is  the  true  issue  of  that  'great  hope  and  inward  zeal'  which 
impelled  our  fathers  in  the  migration.  *  *  *  *  All 
kinds  of  progress,  political  and  spiritual,  coalesce  and  work 
together  in  our  history,  and  will  do  so  in  all  the  race,  till 
finally  it  is  is  raised  to  its  true  summit  of  greatness,  felicity 
and  glory  in  God  and  religion.  And  when  that  summit  is 
reached,  it  will  be  found  that,  as  Church  and  State  must  be 
parted,  in  the  crumbling  and  disintegrating  processes  of 
freedom,  so,  in  freedom  attained,  they  will  coalesce  again', 
not  as  Church  and  State,  but  in  such  kind  of  unity  as  well 
nigh   removes   the   distinction —  the   peace   and   love    and 


262  THTNOS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

world-wide  brotherhood,  established  under  moral  ideas, 
and  the  eternal  truths  of  God's  eternal  kingdom." 

We  have  reached,^  I  think,  in  our  discussion,  the  full 
meaning  of  the  central  symbol  of  the  prophet's  vision.  But 
we  have  not  3^et  come  to  the  question  that  graveled  him,  and 
that  he  thrice  repeated.  "What  are  these  two  olive  trees  on 
the  right  side  of  the  candlestick  and  on  the  left  side 
thereof?"  What  the  golden  candelabrum  signified  he 
knew  very  well ;  but  these  two  olive  trees,  growing  on  either 
side  of  it,  connected  with  it  by  golden  pipes,  and  pouring  a 
perennial  supply  of  golden  oil,  pure  and  precious,  into  the 
golden  bowl  —  what  did  they  symbolize? 

The  figure  is  indeed  a  striking  one.  The  candelabrum 
needs  to  be  constantly  replenished  with  oil.  The  oil  is  the 
motive  power,  the  illuminating  principle.  A  lamp  without 
oil  is  like  a  river  without  water  or  a  body  without  a  soul. 
But  the  lamps  of  the  candelabrum  seem  to  be  furnished  in 
a  wonderful  manner.  The  olive  trees  secrete  the  oil,  and 
empty  it  out  of  themselves;  no  oil  mills  or  presses  inter- 
vene ;  there  is  no  machinery  about  it ;  the  oil  is  not  manu- 
factured, it  grows ;  the  powers  of  life  produce  it,  and  pour 
it,  in  a  constant  supply,  into  the  branching  tubes  of  the 
candelabrum. 

But  what  is  the  oil  thus  provided?  Plainly  it  must  be 
taken  here  to  represent  the  divine  inspiration  which  is  the 
power  that  moves  and  the  life  that  energizes  the  Kingdom 
of  God  in  the  world.  It  is  the  immanent  and  perennial 
grace  of  Him  "  whose  light  is  truth,  whose  warmth  is  love." 
It  is  the  influx  of  his  being  of  whom  it  was  said,  "  In  Him 
was  life  and  the  life  was  the  light  of  men."  The  divine 
influence,   the   divine   energy,   the   divine    inspiration    are 


THE    CONSECRATION    OF    THE    PEOPLE.  263 

symbolized  by  the  oil,  with  which  the  lamps  of  the  cande- 
labrum were  thus  marvellously  supplied.  But  again  the 
prophet's  question  returns,  "  What*  are  these  two  olive 
trees?"  "  Knowest  thou  not?"  the  angel  queries.  "No, 
my  Lord,"  he  replies.  Then,  said  he,  "These  are  the  two 
anointed  ones  that  stand  by  the  Lord  of  the  whole  earth." 
But  who  are  the  two  anointed  ones?  To  the  prophet 
but  one  answer  was  possible.  They  were  the  king  and  the 
priest.  Kings  and  priests  were  anointed  with  oil  when  they 
were  inducted  into  office.  The  pouring  of  the  sacred  oil 
upon  their  heads  signified  the  communication  to  them  of 
the  divine  grace.  The  thought  was  that  no  man  could  be 
king,  and  no  man  priest,  unless  he  was  filled  with  the 
spirit  and  power  of  God.  The  one  needed  it  as  much  as  the 
other;  it  was  the  very  condition  of  kingship  and  priest- 
hood. And  it  was  believed  not  only  that  the  grace  of  God 
was  thus  imparted  to  them,  but  that  it  was  communicated 
through  them  to  the  Church  and  the  Nation  ;  they  were  the 
channels  through  which  blessings  flowed  from  heaven  to 
earth.  The  two  olive  trees,  therefore,  as  the  angel  inter- 
prets the  vision  of  the  prophet,  were  the  two  anointed  ones 
then  standing  before  the  Lord  in  the  temple,  Zerubbabel, 
the  son  of  Shealtiel,  governor  of  Judah,  and  Joshua,  the  son 
of  Josedeck  the  high  priest  —  the  two  men  in  whom,  as  we 
are  told,  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  was  dwelling ;  the  two  men 
who  were  working  together,  with  one  mind,  to  rebuild  the 
temple  and  restore  to  the  holy  place  the  glor}-  that  had 
departed ;  the  men  whose  work  God  had  promised  to 
crown  with  abundant  honor,  when,  at  length,  the  capstone 
should  be  laid  with  shoutings  of  "  Grace,  grace  unto  it !  ■" 
These  were  the  olive  trees  of  the  prophet's  vision,  the  living 


264  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

sources  of  inspiration  and  help  to  the  restored  and  glorified 
kingdom. 

To  the  prophet,  when  the  angel  had  explained  the 
symbol,  the  meaning  was  plain  ;  to  us  what  does  this  part 
of  the  vision  signify?  With  us  there  is  neither  king  nor 
priest.  Are  there  no  channels,  therefore,  through  which 
the  divine  energy  is  conveyed  to  the  Kingdom  of  God  in 
the  world?  Are  there  no  provisions  made  for  feeding  the 
candlestick  with  heavenly  flame — no  anointed  ones  that 
stand  before  the  Lord  to  receive  and  impart  the  gifts  of 
light  and  love  and  power?  Some  of  those  among  us  who 
hold  the  sacerdotal  theory,  and  the  old  notion  of  the  divine 
right  of  kings,  might  answer  this  question  in  a  sense  not 
different  from  that  in  which  a  devout  Hebrew  would  have 
answered  it.  The  king  and  the  priest  are  still,  they  might 
say,  the  special  representatives  and  vicegerents  of  God. 
But  we,  with  our  republican  or  democratic  theories  of 
Church  and  State,  have  room  for  no  such  explanation. 
Does  this  part  of  the  parable  then  fail  us  altogether? 

By  no  means.  We  were  hasty  when  we  admitted  that 
there  were  among  us  no  kings  nor  priests.  Pause  a 
moment  in  the  presence  of  this  bright  vision,  and  listen  ! 
Can  you  not  hear  the  echoes  of  the  great  ascription  of 
praise  that  rings  out  so  often  amid  the  voices  of  the 
Apocalypse,  from  the  hosts  of  the  redeemed  —  "Unto  him 
that  hath  loved  us  and  washed  us  from  our  sins  in  his  own 
blood  and  hath  made  vs  kings  and  priests  unto  God  f  Every 
loyal  son  of  God,  by  faith,  is  both  a  king  and  a  priest.  All 
you  that  believe,  says  Peter,  are  "a  royal  priesthood." 
Faith  gives  to  all  believers  all  the  rights  and  privileges  of 
the  sons  of  God ;  makes  them  priests  to  minister  and  kings 


THE    CONSECRATION    OF    THE    PEOPLE.  265 

to  reign.  And  even  as  kings  and  priests  of  old  were 
anointed,  so,  says  the  apostle,  speaking  to  all  the  sons  of 
God,  "Ye  have  an  anointing  from  the  Holy  One;"  not  the 
chrism  of  oil,  but  the  immediate  gift  of  that  grace  which 
the  oil  symbolizes.  "  The  anointing  which  ye  have  received 
of  him  abideth  in  you,  and  *  *  *  teacheth  you  of  all 
things,  and  is  truth  and  is  no  lie." 

Here,  then,  we  find  that  the  vision  has  to  us  a  meaning 
far  larger  and  grander  than  it  could  have  had  to  the 
prophet.  The  "two  anointed  ones"  whom  he  saw  have 
become  a  great  company  that  no  man  can  number,  and 
they  stand  before  the  Lord  day  and  night,  praising  him  who 
hath  made  them  kings  and  priests  to  God.  The  grace  that 
was  specialized  in  the  olden  time  is  generalized  in  the  new ; 
the  right  of  standing  liefore  the  Lord  of  the  whole  earth,  of 
receiving  his  messages,  of  transmitting  his  truth  and  his 
love  and  his  power,  is  not  restricted  to  a  few ;  it  belongs  to 
all  faithful  and  loyal  souls. 

There  is  no  sure  foundation  of  popular  governments  in 
Church  or  State  save  as  this  principle  is  recognized. 
Republicanism  and  Protestantism  both  imply  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  people.  There  is  no  special  grace,  conferred  on 
magistrates  or  clergy  ;  the  power  is  with  the  people,  but  it  is 
only  because  God  is  with  the  people ;  there  is  no  power  but 
of  God  ;  if  God  be  not  with  the  people,  the  people  have  no 
more  right  than-  the  veriest  usurper  to  rule  in  Church  or 
State.  We  speak  of  the  old  Jewish  nation  as  a  theocracy, 
and  conceive  that  as  such  its  government  differed  radically 
from  every  other  government.  Not  at  all.  Unless  your 
democracy  is  in  the  broadest  and  deepest  sense  a  theocracy, 
unless  God  is  ruling  the   Nation  through  the  hearts  and 


366  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

lives  of  the  people,  there  is  no  security  or  peace  for  the 
Nation.  And  what  is  true  of  the  Nation  is  not  less  true  of 
the  Church.  A  republican  government  in  which  the  people 
are  not  loyal  to  God  is  a  league  with  death  and  a  covenant 
with  hell ;  a  Protestant  Church,  in  which  the  brotherhood 
are  not  filled  with  the  Spirit,  is  full  of  confusion  and  every 
evil  work.  The  inspiration  of  the  people,  the  anointing  of 
the  people  with  consecrating  grace,  the  lifting  of  the  people 
to  the  altars  of  ministry  and  the  thrones  of  power  —  this  is 
the  watchword  of  the  Christian  dispensation. 

I  fear  that  we  do  not  always  grasp  this  truth  in  its 
completeness.  We  do  not  apprehend  the  vital  relation 
which  the  members  of  our  churches  sustain  to  the 
churches  — the  fact  that  the  organization  does  not  sanctify 
the  membership,  but  that  the  organization  itself  becomes 
sacred  through  the  consecrating  grace  abiding  in  the  lives 
of  a  holy  membership. 

Still  less  do  we  comprehend  the  importance  of  the 
relation  which  we  as  citizens  sustain  to  the  State.  It  is 
one  of  the  commonplaces  of  the  newspaper  and  the  school- 
room that  ours  is  a  government  of  the  people,  as  well  as  by 
and  for  the  people  ;  but  it  is  one  of  those  commonplaces 
that  has  little  power  over  the  lives  of  the  citizens.  The 
average  American,  in  prosperous  circumstances,  habitually 
conceives  of  the  government  of  his  country  or  his  State  or 
his  city  as  something  apart  from  himself — something  with 
which  he  has  no  vital  relation.  He  scolds  a  great  deal 
about  the  government,  and  never  considers  that  he  is  scold- 
ing himself.  The  people  in  office  are  the  government ;  how 
they  came  to  be  in  office  he  does  not  often  inquire.  If  it  is 
convenient,  he  votes,  on  election  day ;  but  it  is  frequently 


THE    CONSECRATIOiX    OF    THE    PEOPLE.  267 

managed  so  that  in  voting  he  can  only  make  a  choice 
between  two  evils ;  and  it  does  not  occur  to  him  that  any 
responsibility  for  reforming  the  management  rests  upon  his 
shoulders.  Voting  is,  under  these  circumstances,  dubious 
business  ;  it  becomes  a  serious  question  whether  it  is  worth 
while  to  vote ;  but,  having  voted,  our  average  citizen  deems 
his  duty  completely  done ;  what  remains  is  the  inalienable 
right  of  grumbling  at  the  bad  streets,  and  the  poor  schools, 
and  the  shocking  morals,  and  the  high  taxes. 

Two  things  are  necessary;  first  that  the  olive  trees 
should  generate  the  golden  oil  —  that  the  people  should 
have  in  themselves  abundant  moral  energy  ;  and  secondly 
that  there  should  be  the  golden  pipes  connecting  the  olive 
trees  with  the  candelabrum  —  the  people  must  be  in  close 
and  constant  relation  with  the  machinery  of  their  govern- 
ment, so  that  their  moral  energy  may  flow  into  it,  and 
vitalize  and  reinforce  it  continually.  I  do  not  think  that 
the  people  ought,  ordinarily,  to  undertake,  by  means  of 
independent,  volunteer  agencies,  to  enforce  the  laws  ;  the 
people  have  put  that  work  into  the  hands  of  the  constituted 
authorities,  who  are  their  servants  to  do  this  very  thing ; 
they  ought  not  to  take  it  out  of  their  hands  ;  but  they 
ought  to  give  them  any  aid  and  encouragement  that  they 
can  in  doing  the  w«irk,  and  they  ought  to  see  to  it  that  the 
work  is  done ;  to  watch  the  manner  in  which  it  is  done ;  to 
be  ready  summarily  to  set  aside  those  who  will  not  do  their 
bidding.  The  need  of  a  near  and  constant  relation  between 
the  body  of  good  citizens  and  the  men  whom  they  employ 
to  administer  the  government  is  the  one  crying  need  of  our 
American  politics.  The  supply  of  oil  to  the  candelabrum 
in  the  prophet's  vision  was  not  fitful  or  semi-occasional ; 


268  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

the  olive  trees  did  not  come  about  the  candlestick  once  in 
a  while  and  drip  a  little  oil  into  the  bowl ;  they  were  planted 
right  beside  it ;  they  lived  there  ;  they  grew  there,  and  they 
poured  the  golden  oil  out  of  themselves  into  the  golden 
bowl  perennially.  Thus  the  moral  energy  of  the  body  of 
good  citizens,  the  flame  of  a  holy  enthusiasm  for  virtue, 
must  be  communicated  continual  1}^  to  those  who  are  placed 
in  authorit3^  It  is  the  only  motive  power  of  good  adminis- 
tration, and  there  is  no  other  way,  in  a  republic,  of  supply- 
ing this  motive  power. 

Of  good  administration,  I  said,  it  is  the  only  motive 
power.  But  there  is  plenty  of  power  of  a  very  different 
sort,  steadily  brought  to  bear  upon  your  officers,  instigating 
them  to  bad  administration.  There  are  a  great  many  cities 
in  this  country,  whose  candelabrum  of  civil  magistracy  is 
surrounded,  I  fear,  by  altogether  different  scenery  from  that 
which  appeared  in  Zachariah's  vision.  If  some  prophet 
should  be  inspired  to  show  us,  in  pictorial  symbolism,  the 
sources  from  which  many  of  our  municipal  governments 
draw  their  inspiration,  he  would  reveal  to  us,  instead  of  the 
olive-tree,  a  gin-mill,  and  instead  of  the  golden  pipe,  the 
worm  of  the  still.  Fed  by  such  supplies,  it  is  no  marvel 
that  the  lamp  of  the  civil  power  often  burns  luridly  and 
balefully,  filling  the  air  with  sulphurous  stench  and  noxious 
vapor,  and  only  serving  to  add  danger  and  terror  to  the 
surrounding  darkness. 

It  rests  with  us,  fellow  citizens,  to  say  with  what  kind 
of  fuel  this  lamp  of  ours  shall  be  fed;  what  kind  of  inspira- 
tion shall  be  potent  with  the  people  who  execute  our  laws. 
Doubtless  it  is  our  first  business  to  put  into  the  places  of 
authority   men   who   will    be    open   to   good    influences  — 


THE    CONSECRATION    OF    THE    PEOPLE.  269 

naturally  and  habitually  en  rapport  with  the  best  elements 
of  society,  instead  of  the  worst  elements ;  then  it  is  our 
business  to  keep  ourselves  in  constant  communication  with 
them,  to  vitalize  their  virtue,  and  feed  the  flame  of  their 
zeal  for  righteousness. 

The  government  of  this  city  is  put  into  our  hands.  It 
is  a  grave  responsibility.  Municipal  government  in  all  our 
great  cities  is  becoming  more  and  more  complex ;  the 
problem  of  administration  is  a  difficult  one ;  the  opjiortuni- 
ties  for  waste,  for  plunder,  for  mischief  of  all  sorts  multiply 
as  the  machinery  becomes  more  intricate ;  the  pressure  of 
the  disorderly  classes  against  all  the  restraints  of  law 
becomes  more  and  more  determined ;  there  is  need  of 
knowledge,  and  trained  faculty,  and  ripe  experience,  and 
courage,  and  probity  in  the  men  who  preside  in  its  councils 
and  manage  its  aflffiirs.  When  requisition  is  made  upon 
such  men  for  service,  let  them  not  excuse  themselves.  If 
there  is  one  call  of  God  more  distinct,  more  imperative  at 
this  day  than  all  others,  it  is  that  which  summons  good 
men  to  take  the  places  of  trust  in  the  municipal  governments 
of  this  country.  No  appeal  for  soldiers  in  the  day  of 
the  nation's  distress  was  ever  more  urgent;  no  voice  from 
Macedonia,  crying  for  missionary  volunteers,  ever  deserved 
to  rouse  a  holier  enthusiasm,  or  to  kindle  a  more  conse- 
crated purpose.  To  refuse  to  obey  this  call ;  to  turn  away, 
one  to  his  clients  and  another  to  his  mines  and  another 
to  his  merchandise,  when  such  a  duty  invites,  is  a 
kind  of  infidelity  of  which  good  men  ought  not  be 
guilty.  I  lay  it  on  your  consciences,  my  fellow  citizens, 
and  I  believe  that  the  message  which  I  utter  is  one  that 
has   been    given   me   by   Him   whose   commission   I   bear, 


270  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

that  you  must  manfully  take  up  these  duties  and  discharge 
them  in  the  fear  of  God. 

With  good  men  sitting  in  the  places  of  trust,  and, 
round  about  them,  the  multitude  of  anointed  ones,  to  fill 
and  replenish  their  hearts  with  the  strength  of  virtue,  we 
may  trust  that  the  light  in  our  candlestick  will  burn  with  a 
pure  and  steady  flame ;  that  peace  and  health  and  thrift 
will  abide  within  our  borders,  and  that  every  year  will 
bring  us  some  new  reasons  for  thanksgiving. 


THE  CHURCH   OF  THE  FUTURE. 


Isaiah    ii:     2-3. 

"  And  in  the  last  days  it  shall  come  to  pass  that  the  mountain  of  the 
Lord's  house  shall  be  established  in  the  top  of  the  mountains,  and 
shall  be  exalted  above  the  hills,  and  all  nations  shall  flow  unto 
it.  And  many  people  shall  go  and  say.  Come,  and  let  us  go  up 
to  the  mountain  of  the  Lord,  to  the  house  of  the  God  of  Jacob ; 
and  he  will  teach  us  of  his  ways  and  we  will  walk  in  his  paths : 
for  out  of  Zion  shall  go  forth  the  law  and  the  ivord  of  the  Lord 
from  Jerusalem." 

It  is  quite  the  fashion  in  these  days  for  those  who 
do  not  believe  in  the  Christian  religion  to  bestow  on  it 
their  patronage.  The  Bible  is  full  of  delusion  and  false- 
hood, but  they  regard  it,  on  the  whole,  as  a  book  that 
deserves  notice ;  parts  of  it  are  almost  as  good  as  the 
Rig- Veda.  The  Church  has  been  the  handmaid  of  bigotry 
and  superstition,  yet  they  find  in  the  history  of  the  Church 
some  passages  that  are  inspiring.  Jesus  of  Nazareth  was 
a  teacher  in  whose  doctrine  they  find  many  things  to  set 
right ;  yet,  so  rich  were  his  contributions  to  ethical  science 
that  they  feel  themselves  justified  in  bestowing  on  him 
a   qualified    approval. 


272  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

This  fashion  of  patronizing  Christianity  may  have 
been  set  by  Goethe.  Into  that  temple  of  the  future  which 
he  describes  in  his  Tale,  the  little  hut  of  the  fisherman,  by 
which  he  symbolizes  Christianity,  was  graciously  admitted. 
"  This  little  hut  had,  indeed,  been  wonderfully  transfigured. 
By  virtue  of  the  Lamp  locked  up  in  it  [the  light  of  reason] 
the  hut  had  been  converted  from  the  inside  to  the  outside 
into  solid  silver.  Ere  long,  too,  its  form  changed  ;  for  the 
noble  metal  shook  aside  the  accidental  shape  of  planks, 
posts  and  beams,  and  stretched  itself  out  into  a  noble  case 
of  beaten,  ornamented  workmanship.  Thus  a  fair  little 
temple  stood  erected  in  the  middle  of  the  large  one  ;  or,  if 
you  will,  an  altar  worthy  of  the  temple."  This  is  Goethe's 
view  of  the  Church  of  the  Future.  He  has  been  magnani- 
mous enough  to  provide  a  niche  for  it  in  the  perfected 
temple  of  the  Great  Hereafter ;  it  is  to  serve  as  a  pretty 
decoration  of  that  grand  structure,  as  a  dainty  bit  of 
bric-a-brac. 

About  twenty-five  centuries  before  Goethe's  day 
another  poet,  dwelling  somewhere  in  the  fastnesses  of 
Syria,  had  visions  of  the  future  in  form  and  color  quite 
unlike  this  of  the  German  philosopher.  Isaiah  was  this 
ancient  seer's  name,  and  the  words  which  describe  the 
vision  to  which  I  refer  have  already  been  read  in  your 
hearing.  In  this  poet's  sight  of  the  Latter  Day.  the  Church 
of  God  is  not  merely  a  feature ;  it  furnishes  the  outline ;  it 
fills  the  whole  field  of  vision.  It  is  not  merely  a  trait  of 
the  picture,  it  is  the  picture.  Instead  of  putting  the 
Church  into  a  niche  in  the  temple  of  the  future,  to  be  kept 
there  as  a  kind  of  heir-loom — a  well-preserved  antique 
curiosity  —  Isaiah  insists  that  the  Church  is  the  temple  and 


THE    CHURCH    OF    THE    FUTURE.  273 

that  all  stores  and  forces  of  good  are  to  be  gathered  into  it, 
to  celebrate  its  empire  and  to  decorate  its  triumph.  The 
mountain  of  the  Lord's  house,  the  typical  Zion  on  which 
the  spiritual  cluirch  is  builded,  is  to  be  exalted  above  all 
other  eminences.  Toward  that  all  eyes  shall  turn ;  toward 
that  all  paths  shall  lead;  toward  that  shall  journey  with 
joy  all  pilgrim  feet.  For  the  heralds  of  its  progress,  for 
the  missionaries  of  its  glad  tidings  it  shall  have  many 
nations ;  it  shall  give  to  all  the  world  the  ruling  law  and 
the  informing  word. 

This  is  Isaiah's  view  of  the  Church  of  the  Future. 
When  twenty-five  centuries  more  shall  have  passed  it  will 
be  easier  to  tell  whether  the  Hebrew  or  the  German  was  the 
better  seer. 

Isaiah  shows  us  the  Church  of  the  Future  only  in 
outline  ;  the  great  fact  which  he  gives  us  is  that  in  the  last 
days  the  spiritual  Jerusalem  shall  gather  into  itself  all  the 
kingdoms  of  the  world  and  all  the  glory  of  them.  It  may 
be  possible  for  us  in  some  indistinct  way  to  fill  in  this 
outline ;  to  imagine,  if  we  cannot  prophesy,  what  the  scope 
and  character  of  the  future  Church  shall  be. 

I.  Will  it  have  a  creed?  To  this  some  persons  will  be 
inclined  to  answer  that  creeds  of  all  kinds  will  be  outworn 
and  discarded  when  the  glory  of  the  Lord  is  fully  revealed. 
The  undue  prominence  which  these  formularies  of  faith 
have  had  in  the  past  —  the  preference  which  has  often  been 
given  to  that  sort  of  Christianity  which  is  intellectual  over 
that  which  is  ethical  or  spiritual  —  has  led  many  persons 
to  undervalue  those  expressions  of  truth  which,  in  all  ages, 
the  Church  has  possessed.  A  creed  is  only  a  statement, 
more  or  less  elaborate,  of  the  facts  and  princii)les  of  relig- 


27  Jf  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

ion  accepted  by  those  who  adhere  to  it.  Religion  is  not 
wholly  an  affair  of  the  emotions;  it  involves  the  apprehen- 
sion of  truth.  In  the  future,  as  in  the  past,  this  truth  must 
be  stated,  in  order  to  be  apprehended.  A  man's  creed  is 
what  he  believes ;  and  there  must  be  creeds  as  long  as  there 
are  believers. 

It  is  probable,  however,  that  the  creeds  may  be  con- 
siderably modified  as  the  years  pass.  Certainly  they  have 
been  undergoing  modifications,  continually,  through  the 
centuries  gone  by.  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  told  the 
graduating  class  at  the  Bellevue  Medical  College  a  few  years 
ago  that  he  would  rather  be  carried  through  a  course  of 
fever  by  the  poorest  scholar  in  that  class  than  by  the  best 
phj'sician  alive  in  the  days  of  the  famous  Rush.  This  is  a 
startling  testimony  to  the  progress  of  medical  science. 
Has  theological  science  been  advancing  at  the  same  rate? 
Hardly ;  nevertheless  the  changes  have  been  many  and 
important.  The  elements  of  theology  are  subtle ;  the  move- 
ments of  thought  are  often  difficult  to  trace  ;  but  the  careful 
student  discovers  wonderful  transformations  in  the  ruling- 
ideas  of  theology  from  age  to  age.  The  point  of  view  in 
theology  may  be  said  to  have  wholly  changed  within  two 
hundred  years.  So  great  has  been  the  progress  that  we 
often  find  men  who  have  a  reputation  for  intelligence  deny- 
ing, ignorantly  or  disingenuously,  the  plainest  facts  of 
history,  and  contending  that  nobody  ever  believed  doctrines 
that  were  almost  universally  received  in  the  days  of  their 
great  grandfathers.  To  the  mind  of  the  Church  to-day  it  is 
almost  incredible  that  certain  beliefs  of  a  century  or  two 
ago  ever  could  have  been  held  at  all. 

It   must    be    understood,   however,   that    the    changes 


THE    CHURCH    OF    THE    FUTURE.  275 

through  which  theological  science  has  been  passing  have 
been  changes  of  spirit  rather  than  of  substance,  of  form 
more  than  of  fact.  The  essential  truth  remains.  The 
historical  elements  of  Christianity  are  not  altered ;  the 
words  of  Christ  remain  as  true  as  when  they  were  uttered; 
the  person  of  Christ  is  still  the  unifying  and  reconciling 
force  in  all  our  theological  systems ;  but  our  explanations 
of  the  facts  of  Christianity,  and  our  theories  of  the  rela- 
tions of  God  to  men  are  greatly  modified  by  the  growth  of 
knowledge.  Most  important,  however,  of  all  the  factors  by 
which  changes  in  theology  are  produced  is  the  purified 
ethical  conciousness  of  the  race,  through  which  such  words 
as  justice  and  righteousness  take  on  larger  and  nobler 
meanings.  -The  great  changes  in  theology  are  moral 
changes.  Theology  is  constantly  becoming  less  material- 
istic and  more  ethical.  This  progress  will  continue  through 
the  future. 

The  creed  of  the  future  will  contain,  I  have  no  doubt, 
the  same  essential  truth  that  is  found  in  the  creeds  of  the 
present ;  but  there  may  be  considerable  difference  in  the 
phrasing  of  it,  and  in  the  point  of  view  from  which  it  is 
approached. 

1.  Men  will  believe,  in  the  future  as  in  the  present,  in 
an  infinite  personal  God,  the  Creator,  the  Ruler,  the  Father 
of  men.  The  speculations  of  science  will  not  destroy  the 
faith  of  men  in  the  existence  of  such  a  Being.  That  a 
Power  may  be  behind  all  the  forces  of  nature  —  the  Supreme 
Energy  from  which  they  all  proceed  —  science  does  not  now 
deny ;  the  most  that  she  can  say  is  that  the  Power  is 
unknowable.  When  she  says  that,  she  seems  to  me  to  deny 
herself.     To  declare  that  any  fact  or  event  is  unknowable  is 


B76  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

unscientific.  It  is  the  lousiness  of  science  to  find  out  and 
set  in  order  things  known,  not  to  dogmatize  tibout  what 
knowledge  is  possible.  The  scientific  men  may  say  that 
the  existence  of  God  has  not  yet  been  demonstrated  by 
their  investigations ;  they  have  no  right  to  say  that  it  never 
will  be  scientifically  demonstrated. 

But,  whether  the  investigations  of  physical  science  ever 
lead  to  this  result  or  not,  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that 
the  faith  of  men  will  cling,  in  the  future  as  in  the  past,  to 
the  existence  of  a  conscious  personal  God.  The  better  man 
knows  himself,  and  his  own  needs,  tlie  stronger  will  be  his 
conviction  of  his  personal  relations  to  such  a  divine  Being. 
Nothing  else  will  satisfy  the  hunger  of  ,his  spirit.  They 
point  us  to  Nature,  but  there  is  no  voice  in- Nature  that 
answers  the  soul's  deepest  want.  They  tell  us  of  a  reign 
of  law,  but  law  is  a  sovereign  that  cannot  forgive  our 
sins  or  comfort  us  in  our  sorrows.  The  abstract,  im- 
personal Force  to  which  Agnosticism  leads  us  has  no 
relation  to  that  which  is  deepest  in  man,  and  can  have 
none.  Christ  bade  us  love  the  Lord  our  God  with  all 
our  heart  and  mind  and  soul.  Can  any  man  ever  be 
perfectly  happy  until  he  has  found  some  Being  whom 
he  can  love  in  this- way?  Must  not  the  Being  who  is 
worthy  to  be  loved  in  this  way  be  both  perfect  and  infinite? 
And  is  it  possible  for  a  man  to  love  with  heart  and  mind 
and  soul,  any  Being,  however  vast  or  powerful,  that  has 
neither   heart   nor   mind    nor   soul? 

2.  Concerning  the  mode  of  the  divine  existence,  men 
will  learn  in  the  future  to  speak  more  modestly  than  they 
have  spoken  in  the  past.  It  will  become  more  and  more 
evident  that  it  is  not  possible  to  put  the  infinite  into  terms 


THE    CHURCH    OF    THE.    FUTURE.  277 

of  the  finite.  There  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity ;  there  is 
truth  in  it,  or  under  it ;  but  can  any  one  put  that  truth  into 
propositions  that  shall  be  definite  and  not  contradictory  ? 
Men  have  been  trying  to  do  this  ever  since  the  Council  of 
Nica'a,  with  very  indifferent  success.  We  need  to  know 
God  under  the  three  characters  of  Father,  Word  and 
Spirit  —  as  the  Supreme  Creator  and  Sovereign,  the  Incar- 
nate Divinity,  and  the  Indwelling  Life  ;  yet  these  are  not 
three  Gods,  and  any  forms  of  statement  which  give  the 
impression  that  there  are  three  are,  to  say  the  least,  unfortu- 
nate and  misleading.  While,  therefore,  the  essential  truth 
which  underlies  this  doctrine  of  the  Trinity  will  grow 
more  and  more  precious,  the  attempt  to  define  it  is  likely  to 
be  abandoned. 

If  one  may  judge  the  future  by  the  past  there  is  no 
reason  to  fear  that  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ  will  be  less 
commanding  in  the  Church  of  the  Future  than  it  is  in  the 
Church  of  the  present.  There  never  was  a  time  when  men 
believed  in  Jesus  of  Nazareth  as  firmly  as  they  do  to-day. 
I  cannot  doubt  that  this  will  be  increasingly  true  in  the 
future.  But,  even  as  all  theology  becomes  more  distinct- 
ively ethical  and  spiritual,  it  is  probable  that  increasing 
emphasis  will  be  put  upon  the  moral  elements  of  our  Lord's 
personality ;  that  when  men  affirm  his  divinity  they  will 
think  more  of  the  quality,  and  less  of  the  quantity  of  his 
being.  When  the  thought  of  the  Church  lays  hold  on  the 
righteousness  and  the  love  of  its  Lord,  more  than  on  his 
natural  attributes,  her  communion  with  him  will  bring  her 
more  abundant  gifts.  But  I  cannot  doubt  that  the  Chilrch 
will  hold  fast  her  faith  in  her  divine  Lord  and  Master, 
exalting  him,  trustinii  him  and  followino-  him  in  the  future 


278  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

far  more  loyally  than  in  the  past.  "  The  Church  that 
shakes  itself  free  from  Jesus  Christ,"  says  an  eminent 
Unitarian  minister,*  "  is  destined  to  an  early  decay  and 
death.  *  *  *  My  observation  and  experience,  through 
fifty  years  of  effort  and  conflict,  teach  me  that  child-like 
but  manly  allegiance  to  Him  who  is  the  Captain  of  our 
salvation,  is  the  general  condition  and  measure  of  spiritual, 
moral  and  philanthropic  success."  The  experience  of  the 
past  verifies  this  saying,  and  the  Church  of  the  Future  will 
not  despise  the  experience  of  the  past. 

4.  The  fact  of  sin  will  not  be  denied  by  the  Church  of 
the  Future.  That  vicious  compound  of  materialism  and 
sentimentalism,  now  so  widely  current,  by  which  moral 
evil  is  explained  away,  and  evil  doers  are  comforted  in  their 
evil  doing  with  the  assurance  that  everything  the}^  do  is  the 
result  of  circumstance  or  the  product  of  organization,  will 
no  longer  confuse  the  consciences  of  men.  Doubtless 
organization  and  circumstance  will  be  taken  into  the 
account  in  estimating  human  conduct ;  l)Ut  the  power  of 
the  human  will  to  control  the  natural  tendencies,  to  release 
itself  from  entangling  circumstances,  and  to  lay  hold  on 
the  divine  grace  by  which  it  may  overcome  sin,  will  also  be 
clearly  understood.  .  The  supremacy  of  the  moral  nature 
will  be  vindicated  ;  men  will  be  held  to  a  strict  account  for 
their  deeds,  and  made  to  understand  that  the  plea  of  moral 
insanity,  while  it  may  sometimes  be  allowed,  will  in  every 
case  be  rigidly  traversed. 

Punishment,  as  conceived  and  represented  by  the  Church 
of  the  Future,  will  not  be  an  arbitrary  infliction  of  suffering, 
but  the  natural  and  inevitable  consequence  of  disobedience 

*  Dr.  Wm.  G.  Eliot. 


THE    CHURCH    OF    THE    FUTURE.  279 

to  law.  It  will  be  discovered  that  the  moral  law  is  incorpor- 
ated into  the  natural  order,  and  that  its  sanctions  are  found 
in  that  order ;  while,  in  the  work  of  redemption,  God  inter- 
poses by  his  personal  and  supernatural  grace  to  save  men 
from  the  consequences  of  their  own  disobedience  and  folly. 
Law  is  natural ;  grace  is  supernatural.  Punishment  is  the 
fruit  of  our  own  doings  ;  the  mere}'  and  help  that  bring 
salvation  are  the  free  gift  of  the  divine  love. 

With  times  and  seasons  and  dates  and  numbers  the 
Church  of  the  Future,  when  dealing  with  punishment,  will 
be  much  less  familiar  than  the  Church  of  the  past  has  been. 
Its  teaching  on  this  subject  will  have  the  tendency  to  bring 
these  dread  realities  near;  judgment  and  retribution  will 
not  be  put  far  off  among  the  "  last  things,"  and  hidden  from 
the  eyes  of  men  behind  the  curtain  that  falls  upon  life's 
strange  eventful  history ;  their  trumpet  will  be  sounding, 
and  their  note  of  doom  ringing  in  the  ears  of  men  con- 
tinually ;  transgressors  will  be  made  to  see,  what  they  now 
so  dimly  apprehend,  that  no  effect  can  be  more  closely 
joined  to  its  cause  than  penalty  to  sin.  Just  what  theories 
the  future  Church  may  hold  with  respect  to  this  great 
matter  I  will  not  prophecy ;  but  it  will  not  blink,  the  fact  of 
sin,  nor  overlook  the  truth  that  salvati*on  from  sin  must 
come  from  above,  nor  put  out  of  sight  the  solemn  truth, 
that  "the  soul  that  sinneth,  it  shall  die." 

5.  I  have,  indicated,  but  roughly,  some  of  the  essential 
truths  which  are  sure  to  survive  the  destructive  criticism  of 
these  times,  and  to  be  incorporated,  in  some  form,  into  the 
creed  of  the  future.  Whatever  that  creed  may  be,  however, 
it  will  not  be  put  to  the  kind  of  use  which  the  creed  of  the 
present  is  made  to  serve.     It  will  not  be  laid  down  as  the 


280  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

doctrinal  plank  over  which  everybody  must  walk  who 
comes  into  the  communion  of  the  Church.  The  Church 
may  have  some  sort  of  concise  statement  of  truth  as  the 
charter  of  its  existence  ;  but  it  will  not  insist  on  the  accept- 
ance of  this  doctrinal  statement  by  those  who  seek  admis- 
sion to  its  fellowship.  The  church,  like  every  other  organ- 
ism, has  an  organic  idea,  and  that  is  simple  loyalty  to  Jesus 
Christ,  the  head  of  the  Church.  An  assemblage  of  persons 
which  does  not  expect  of  its  members  this  loyalty  is  not  a 
Christian  Church  ;  an  organization  which  does  expect  and 
require  this,  whatever  its  errors  may  be,  is  a  Christian 
Church.  Whoever  exhibits  this  loyalty  belongs  to  Christ ; 
and  what  right  have  you  or  I  to  shut  him  out  of  our  com- 
munion because  he  does  not  understand  or  accept  certain 
doctrinal  statements  that  we  have  chosen  to  make?  The 
creed  of  the  future  will  not  be  a  barrier  over  which  men 
must  climb  to  get  into  the  Church  of  the  Future.  There 
will  be  but  one  door  into  that  Church — you  may  call  it 
broad  or  narrow  —  Christ  will  be  the  door. 

II.  What  will  be  the  polity  of  the  future  Church? 
Will  it  be  governed  episcopally,  by  prelates  or  bishops,  or 
presbyterially,  by  an  elect  few  of  its  members,  or  congrega- 
tionally,  by  the  people  themselves.  That  is  a  question 
which  I  am  not  concerned  to  answer.  It  is  likely  that,  of 
these  various  sorts  of  ecclesiastical  machinery,  -each  of  the 
several  religious  bodies  will  freely  choose  that  which  it  likes 
best.  Doubtless  the  Church  will  have  some  form  of  govern- 
ment :  it  will  not  be  a  holy  mob ;  lawlessness  will  not  be 
regarded  as  the  supreme  good,  in  Church  or  in  State. 
Heaven  itself  is  a  kingdom  ;  and  the  New  Jerusalem  that 
comes  down  from  heaven  will  be  fashioned  on  the  same 


THE    CHURCH    OF    THE    FUTURE. 


281 


model.  The  notion  that  every  human  being  ought  to  do 
just  what  he  likes,  with  no  reference  to  the  welfare  of  his 
neighbors,  is  a  doctrine  of  the  woods,  and  not  of  perfected 
society.  Doubtless,  too,  there  will  be  in  the  future  Church 
the  largest  measure  of  true  liberty.  The  great  problem  of 
all  governments,  ecclesiastical  and  political,  has  been 
rightly  to  adjust  the  conflicting  claims  of  authority  and 
liberty;  to  give  the  individual  the  widest  possible  freedom 
and  yet  preserve  society  from  disorder  and  anarchy.  Of 
this  problem,  both  in  Church  and  in  State,  we  must  trust 
the  future  to  find  the  right  solution. 

In  whatever  ecclesiastical    mould   the   Church  of  the 
Future  may  be  cast,  there  will  be  no  mean  sectarianism  in 
existence  then.      Less  will  be  said  about  Christian  union 
then  than  now  ;  but  much  more  will  be  done  about  it.     The 
various  families  of  Christians  will  dwell  as  happily  together 
as  well-bred  families  now  do  in  society  ;  it  will  be  regarded 
as  a  mark  of  ill-breeding  for  one  Church  to  be  jealous  of 
the  growth  or  influence  of  another,  just  as  it  now  is  for  one 
neighbor  to  be  jealous  because  another  neighbor  dwells  in  a 
larger  house  or  drives  a  finer  carriage.     There  will  not  be 
one  form  of  belief  nor  one   form  of  worship;  there  will  be 
as    many    varieties   as   there   are    at    present.      \^^hen   the 
mountains  are   all  of  one  height,  and  the  rivers  are  all  of 
one  width,  and  the  trees  are  all  pollards,  and  the  flowers  are 
all  after  one  pattern;  when   our  houses  are  all  alike,  and 
our 'costumes  all  alike,  and  our  appetites  all  crave  the  same 
viands,  then,  and  not  before,  our  churches  will  be  all  alike. 
But  though  there  be  diversities  of  form  in  the  future,  there 
will  be  real  and  thorough  intercommunion  and  co-operation 
among  Christians  of  all  names,  and  nothing  will  be  permit- 


382  THINGS    NEW    AND     OLD. 

ted  to  hold  apart  those  who  follow  the  same  Leader  and 
travel  the  same  road. 

V.  What  kind  of  work  will  be  done  by  the  Church  of 
the  Future  ?  That  is  a  large  question ;  I  will  not  attempt 
to  answer  it  with  any  degree  of  minuteness.  It  will  have 
many  ways  of  working  that  the  Church  of  the  present  has 
not  dreamed  of.  For,  however  it  may  be  with  reference  to 
dectrine,  in  the  practical  development  of  its  life  the  Church 
of  the  Future  will  be  a  broad  Church  —  broader  by  far  than 
any  now  upon  the  earth.  "The  field  is  the  world,"  Christ 
has  told  us ;  and  in  that  better  day  the  Church  will  have 
learned  to  occupy  the  field. 

1.  Paul  said  that  as  a  preacher  of  the  gospel  he 
magnified  his  office.  There  is  no  office  more  honorable. 
But  it  must  not  be  inferred  that  there  is  no  other  way  of 
preaching  the  gospel  except  the  formal  utterance  of 
religious  truth,  in  the  presence  of  a  congregation.  Cer- 
tainly the  living  voice,  so  far  as  it  reaches,  is  the  best  of  all 
vehicles  for  the  conveying  of  truth.  A  power  can  be  put 
into  spoken  words  which  written  words  cannot  contain. 
For  this  reason  the  old  fashion  of  preaching  the  gospel  will 
be  continued,  beyond  a  question,  through  all  the  future. 
The  gospel  will  be  preached  in  the  latter  da}'^  as  the  Christ 
preached  it  on  the  Mount  of  the  Beatitudes  and  by  the 
shores  of  the  Sea  of  Galilee ;  and  the  common  air  will 
thrill  with  the  joyful  sound  as  the  messengers  of  God 
declare  the  good  tidings  to  men. 

But  the  truth  will  be  disseminated,  in  that  time,  in 
many  other  ways.  For  though  the  living  voice  is  the  best 
instrument  for  tjie  proclamation  of  the  truth,  so  far  as  it 
will  reach,  the  living  voice  cannot  reach  very  far.      One  or 


THE    CHURCH    OF    THE    FUTURE. 

two  thousand  people  are  the  most  that  an  ordinary  man  can 
be  expected  to  address  at  one  time ;  while,  by  other 
methods  of  communication  which  have  been  discovered 
since  Christ  was  on  the  earth,  it  is  possible  for  one  man  to 
reach  an  unlimited  number.  The  art  of  printing  has  been 
given  to  the  world  since  that  day ;  and  by  that  invention 
the  whole  business  of  instructing  and  influencing  men  has 
been  revolutionized.  The  Church  has  already  appropriated 
this  agency  ;  the  printed  word  now  reaches  multitudes  that 
the  living  voice  does  not  reach  ;  and  it  is  doubtless  true  that 
this  agency  will  be  emplo3'ed  in  the  future  more  effectively 
than  in  the  past.  Let  no  one  suppose  tha't  these  modern 
methods  are  any  less  fully  authorized  than  those  ancient 
ones.  The  command  to  preach  the  gospel  includes  the 
command  to  print  the  gospel.  It  means,  Proclaim  it ; 
spread  it ;  let  all  the  world  know  it ;  that  is  all  it  means. 
It  does  not  shut  us  up  to  any  one  way  of  proclaiming  it. 
The  method  of  oral  preaching  may  keep  the  place  of 
eminence,  but  it  Avill  be  supplemented  by  other  and  no  less 
valid  methods. 

Neither  will  the  range  of  teaching  be  so  narrow  in  the 
future  as  it  has  sometimes  been  in  the  past.  It  is  the 
Roman  Catholic  theory  that  the  work  of  education  belongs 
to  the  Church ;  our  American  policy  entrusts  it  mainly  to 
the  State.  Up  to  a  certain  point  we  may  adopt  the  Ameri- 
can theory  ;  but  it  is  a  grave  question  whether  we  have  not 
pushed  it  quite  too  far.  If,  however,  the  machinery  of 
public  instruction  be  left  mainly  in  the  control  of  the 
State,  there  will  still  be  a  great  function  remaining  for'the 
Church  to  fulfil.  The  work  of  education,  in  its  ministry, 
must  always  keep  pace  with  the  work  of  conversion.     To 


284  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

apply  the  ethical  rule  of  the  New  Testament  to  the  conduct 
of  individuals,  and  to  the  relations  of  men  in  society,  will 
be  the  constant  obligation  of  the  pulpit.  Out  of  Zion  must 
go  forth  the  law  by  which  parents,  children,  neighbors, 
citizens,  workmen,  masters,  teachers,  pupils,  benefactors, 
beneficiaries,  shall  guide  their  behavior.  The  application 
of  the  Christian  law  to  all  the  concerns  of  human  life  ;  the 
extension  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  so  that  it  shall  cover 
all  the  kingdoms  of  this  world  —  this  is  the  problem  to  be 
solved  in  the  future  teachings  of  the  Church.  There  is  a 
gospel  of  the  secular  life  which  it  will  hear  with  joy,  and 
which  it  will  not  cease  to  proclaim.  Remembering  that 
men  are  to  be  sanctified  through  God's  word  of  truth,  it  will 
remember  also  that  every  truth  which  God  has  uttered, 
whether  in  the  rocks  of  the  shore,  or  in  the  lilies  of  the 
field,  or  in  the  secret  chambers  of  the  soul,  or  in  the  firm 
characters  by  which  his  purpose  is  traced  upon  the  page  of 
history,  is  God's  word,  to  be  reverently  studied  and  com- 
pared with  every  other  part  of  his  revelation. 

Science,  long  the  night  mare  of  the  theologians,  will  no 
more  trouble  their  dreams ;  it  will  be  understood  that  there 
can  be  no  conflict  between  truths  ;  that  the  upper  and  the 
underworlds  are  not.  discordant,  but  harmonious ;  that 
physical  science  has  its  facts  and  its  laws,  and  spiritual 
science  its  facts  and  its  laws ;  that  these  are  diverse  but  not 
contradictory,  and  that  the  one  is  just  as  positive  and 
knowable  as  the  other.  The  unfriendliness  now  existing 
between  the  scientists  and  the  theologians  will  exist  no 
longer;  because  both  parties  will  have  learned  wisdom. 
The  theologians  will  stop  quarreling  with  facts ;  the 
scientists  will  cease  to  insist  that  nothing  is  a  fact  which 


THE    CHURCH    OF    THE    FUTURE.  285 

cannot  be  weighed  with  steelyards.  Men  will  be  cautious, 
in  the  future,  about  accepting  scientific  theories ;  perhaps 
the  scientists  themselves  may  be  a  little  more  cautious  by 
that  time;  but  when  a  fact  or  a  law  is  established  by  suffi- 
cient evidence,  the  religionist  of  the  future  will  not  be  such 
a  fool  as  to  fight  against  it.  If  it  make  a  modification  of 
his  opinions  necessary  he  will  modify  his  opinions  to  con- 
form them  to  the  fact ;  if  it  require  a  new  interpretation  of 
Scripture,  he  will  interpret  the  Scripture  to  make  it  conform 
to  the  fact.  That  will  seem  to  him  a  perfectl}^  natural  thing 
to  do.  And  he  will  read,  with  a  half-incredulous  wonder, 
the  strenuous  debates  of  this  century,  in  which  obstinate 
dogmatists  have  beaten  their  own  brains  out  against  facts. 
The  reconciliation  of  science  with  religion  over  which  the 
church  of  the  present  is  often  puzzled,  v.ill  give  the  Church 
of  the  Future  no  trouble. 

As  you  go  down  the  long  avenue  in  the  great  city  in 
the  evening,  you  pass  between  two  parallel  rows  of  street- 
lamps.  Near  you  on  either  hand  the  lights  of  each  row  are 
isolated  from  one  another ;  there  seems  to  be  quite  a  space 
between  the  lamps,  and  between  the  rows  flows  the  turbu- 
lent stream  of  travel,  the  noisy  cars  and  the  clattering 
carriages.  But,  as  you  look  ahead,  you  notice  that  the 
space  between  the  lamps  of  each  row  seems  to  lessen  the 
further  on  your  eye  ranges,  and  that  the  two  rows  seem  to 
draw  nearer  together,  till  at  length,  far  off,  the  two  converg- 
ing lines  of  light  are  blended  into  one. 

So,  as  we  travel  through  this  world,  the  lights  of 
Religion  and  of  Science  seem  to  range  themselves  on  either 
side  our  way.  There  are  travelers  who  walk  by  the  light  of 
the  one,  and  travelers  who  walk  by  the  light  of  the  other  — 


386  THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

(not  all  going  in  the  same  direction  either)  —  while  between 
the  two  there  are  passengers  who  dimly  see  by  the  light  of 
both.  The  lights  on  either  side  are  separated  by  spaces  of 
darkness ;  now  and  then  we  come  upon  truths  that  are 
luminous,  both  in  science  and  religion  ;  but  we  fail  to  bring 
them  together  into  relations  of  unity ;  while  between  the 
two  rows  of  lamps  the  interval  is  so  wide  and  so  full  of 
strife  and  clamor,  that  it  seems  hardly  safe  to  pass  from 
the  one  to  the  other.  But  look  down  through  the  future  ! 
Can  you  not  see  that  the  dark  spaces  shorten,  that  the 
parted  lives  converge,  that  beyond  these  noises,  in  the  far- 
off  silence  of  the  Latter  Day,  they  merge  into  a  common 
glory? 

2.  But  the  work  of  teaching  will  not  be  the  only  work 
to  which  the  Church  of  the  Future  will  address  itself. 
Large  and  wise  enterprises  for  the  welfare  of  men  will  be. 
set  on  foot ;  many  of  the  instrumentalities  now  in  use  will 
continue  to  be  employed,  under  modified  forms,  and  many 
new  ones  will  be  devised.  It  will  be  understood  that  the 
law  of  the  Church  is  simph'  this,  "  Let  us  do  good  to  all 
men  as  we  have  opportunity."  No  means  of  making  men 
better  will  be  counted  unlawful ;  everything  that  helps  to  lift 
them  out  of  misery  and  to  bring  them  near  to  God  will  be 
received  with  thanksgiving.  The  fact  will  be  kept  before 
the  mind  of  the  Church  that  its  work  is  the  work  of  Christ 
—  to  save  men;  to  save  them,  not  by  mutilating  but  by 
completing  their  manhood ;  to  save  them,  as  Christ  did, 
from  disease  and  ignorance  and  loneliness  and  sorrow,  but, 
greatest  of  all,  to  save  them  from  their  sins.  '  The  moral 
evil  is  the  radical  evil,  and  the  remedy  will  be  applied  first 
and  most  faithfully  to  this.     Yet  it  is  impossible  to  do  this 


THE    CHURCH    OF    THE    FUTURE.  287 

work  as  it  ought  to  be  done,  without  doing  at  the  same 
time  many  other  things.  So  the  various  ministries  of 
philanthropy  are  and  must  ever  be  an  inseparable  part  of 
the  work  of  the  Church.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  in  the 
future  there  will  be  less  of  doing  good  by  proxy  and  more 
of  personal  sympathy  and  help  ;  that  the  Church  will  learn 
a  little  better  how  to  bring  the  giver  and  the  receiver  into 
contact,  that  they  may  share  the  blessing  together. 

Much  of  the  sin  and  sorrow  of  the  race  arises  out  of 
bad  social  conditions.  Inequitable  relations  between  labor 
and  capital ;  unwise  domestic  relations ;  the  neglect  of 
needful  restrictions  on  vice  and  evil  doing,  all  these 
occasion  more  or  less  misery  and  sin.  The  Church  of  the 
Future  will  take  hold  of  all  these  matters  with  a  firm  hand  ; 
it  will  investigate  them  and  discuss  them,  till  a  sound 
public  opinion  is  created  to  deal  with  them ;  and  while  it 
will  not  entertain  the  delusion  that  such  mischiefs  can  all 
be  corrected  by  legislation,  it  will  not  hesitate  to  do  what 
can  be  done  by  force  of  law  to  supply  the  remedies.  The 
Church  of  the  Future  would  be  a  very  uncomfortable 
society  for  some  fogies  of  the  present  to  belong  to ;  for  it 
will  meddle  with  politics  far  more  than  any  of  the  Churches 
of  our  time  have  ever  dared  to  do. 

In  short,  the  Church  of  the  Future,  loyal  to  its  great 
Head,  and  leaning  on  his  counsel  and  his  might,  will  go 
out  into  the  world  and  take  possession  of  it,  in  his  name. 
Wherever  there  are  wrongs  it  will  strive  to  right  them ; 
wherever  there  are  needs  it  will  work  to  supply  them ; 
wherever  there  are  sorrows  it  will  love  to  comfort  them ; 
wherever  there  are  any  whom  Christ  would  have  helped,  it 
will  go  to  them  and  carry  the  gifts  he  came  to  bring. 


THINGS    NEW    AND    OLD. 

Thus,  very  imperfectly,  I  have  sought  to  outline  the 
character  of  the  Church  of  the  Future.  It  appears  to  me 
that  such  a  study  may  have  some  value  for  us  all.  Our 
work  is  in  the  present,  .'md  it  is  not  well  for  us  to  get  too 
far  in  advance  of  our  time.  The  fact  that  none  of  the 
Churches  of  the  present  are  quite  so  catholic  in  their 
spirit  or  quite  so  vigorous  in  their  life  as  this  Church  of 
our  imagination,  by  no  means  justifies  us  in  standing  aloof 
fron  them  all ;  all  liuman  methods  are  imperfect;  and  it  is 
much  easier  to  define  a  perfect  circle  than  it  is  to  draw  one. 
The  best  thing  we  can  do,  under  the  circumstances,  is  to 
take  such  tools  are  at  hand  and  do  the  best  possible  work 
with  them.  Nevertheless,  it  is  well  to  abide,  now  and  then, 
in  the  region  of  the  ideal  —  to  think  of  what  might  be  ;  and 
it  is  certain  that  the  ideals  of  the  noblest  work  must  come, 
as  they  have  always  come,  out  of  the  future  rather  than 
the  past. 

On  the  morning  of  that  day  when  the  Savior  rose,  the 
women  who  sought  the  sepulcher  found  there  not  what  they 
sought,  but  two  young  men  in  shining  garments  greeted 
them  from  the  grave-side,  saying ;  "  Why  seek  ye  the 
living  among  the  dead  ?  He  is  not  here,  but  is  risen,  and 
behold  he  goeth  before  you  into  Galilee."  So  to  all  who 
seek  amid  the  traditions  of  a  vanished  past  for  the  warrant 
of  their  faith  and  the  pattern  of  their  life,  God's  angel 
speaks  to-day:  Look  not  for  this  Christ  in  the  cerements 
of  old  forms  or  phrases ;  he  is  not  here  ;  he  is  risen  ;  the 
world  is  full  of  the  light  that  shines  through  the  bars  of 
his  sepulcher ;  you,  like  the  Magdalene,  may  hear  his  glad 
"  All  hail !  "     Lo,  he  goeth  before  yau  ;  rise  and  follow  him  ! 


